May The Devil Come
by applythepressure
Summary: Somehow she knew she couldn't forget the boy behind the window.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _**As The World Falls Down**_ is done and of course, I have another AU idea. Violet sees Tate when she is visiting her mother in the hospital and she cannot stop thinking about him. When he shows up on her doorstep and asks her to help him, she cannot help but comply. Get ready. Violet is alive as is Tate. The house is not haunted as we know it in the show, but it does still have a sinister character to it. The Rubberman incident did not happen. Vivien is in the mental hospital as she was in the show, but the reason is not her rape.

_**May The Devil Come**_

She really did not want to visit her mother in the hospital.

She scoffed at the euphemism for what the place really was – a place for people that society labeled as crazy. She couldn't help but wonder if they were just different and because of that, because they threw off the chains of normalcy, because they dared to embraced a life other than what people deemed acceptable or proper, society got frightened and locked them away like a child would lock his closet to keep the monsters from getting him while he slept unawares. Different and crazy were not necessarily the same. She always felt different, but she wasn't crazy. Or at least she didn't think she was.

"Come on, Violet."

Her father motioned her down a grim hallway which was painted a stark, unforgiving white and was crowded with sharp metal carts loaded with medication, syringes, and gauze pads. She nodded to the nurse on call – an old, wrinkled woman with a smear of lipstick on the corner of her mouth who was wearing threadbare scrubs with horrible, huge flowers on them – who returned her gesture with a less than enthusiastic wave. She dragged her feet behind her father, feeling more and more uncomfortable as she passed the rooms that held the poor souls she had been thinking about.

Who gets to decide who is crazy and who is not? What if the normal people are actually the crazy ones?

Because in her opinion, she wasn't sure if she knew who was more in their right minds.

Behind one room she could hear screaming. The next one was deathly silent. She didn't know which was more terrifying.

She did not know what compelled her to look up from the cracked linoleum floor.

But she did. And at that moment was when it all changed.

* * *

Several months ago, her mother had had a gruesome miscarriage and as much as she tried to hold it together, Violet knew something was wrong with her mother.

She didn't talk as much and when she did, it was a soft whisper rather than the loud laughter that Violet was accustomed to. It was almost as if her voice was slipping away from her and soon she would have no voice at all, all sound consumed by the immense sadness that now was engulfing and devouring her soul.

She stared off into space a lot and Violet would have to try harder and harder to snap her out of it each subsequent time. Her father had even less luck than her. She would stare for hours outside the kitchen window, but Violet was sure she didn't hear the birds or saw the flowers swaying in the wind.

Doctors told them she was depressed – which came as no surprise to either of them – and Violet even yelled in one doctor's face that even she could tell that and she didn't even have a high school diploma yet. That visit didn't end so well.

The revolving tray of medications on their kitchen table did nothing and she just ended up flushing them down the toilet because well, what was the point?

So finally, her dad broke and checked her into a mental hospital, hoping to get her the treatment she needed. Violet wasn't happy with the decision, but what else could they do? Their love and support and frustration and pleading weren't enough.

So there they were, visiting her at least three times a week in a small room that was anything but inviting and comforting.

This time was like the ones before – cold, awkward, upsetting. She hated coming to this place because it only reminded her how fucked up her family was. Her dad grieving over a wife who might as well be dead and a daughter who has lost not one but both her parents to Prozac and sterile needles and misery.

But then she looked up and saw two eyes looking back at her.

* * *

She was overcome with the feeling that something had been set in motion, could feel it racing towards her, and that she had no control over it whatsoever.

He was about her age, maybe a year or so older. He had blond hair that fell into his eyes, a sharp mouth that was curved into the hint of a playful smirk, and cheekbones that could cut butter. His face filled the entire window and he was so close to the glass that she could see the slight condensation of his breath.

His eyes, dark as chocolate, nighttime, and coal all rolled into one. They were the embodiment of shadows, of scary things lurking in the sinister dark of the night. They pierced right through her and shivers ran down her arms and hairs stood up on the back of her neck. It felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs.

How could one look induce such a complex, dizzying, deadly array of emotions? She had never experienced anything like it.

She couldn't help but stare back, entranced by the contrast of the ugly, cold hospital with this boy's beauty. Someone that beautiful didn't belong here. The hospital was powerless to keep him from standing out, like a sunflower in a field of dandelions. He was born to be noticed.

She was rooted to her spot and she was positive her mouth was hanging open in shock and awe, but she couldn't bring herself to care right now. She felt like she was locked in his gaze forever and to be completely honest, she wouldn't have minded.

"Violet! Where are you?"

Her dad's voice physically shook her out of her trance. She tore her eyes away and broke into a run down the hallway, her heart pounding and her breathing feeling much too labored for the amount of exercise she was doing. The world felt out of balance, like she had spent too long spinning with her arms out like she did as a little kid and now she was lying on the grass watching the ground tilt.

Who was he?

And more importantly, what did he want from her?

* * *

"Hey, mom. I missed you." She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, but she got no response back. She sat in the chair across from her mother and her doctor, who gave her a sympathetic look.

"Hi, Viv, how are you doing?" Her father took her hands in his and just held them, like he did every visit. She thinks it's because he hopes she can feel his love radiating out of his palms.

"Fine." Her eyes were unfocused and tired and Violet knew this was going to be a bad visit.

"So, Dr. Harmon, I wanted to give you an update on your wife's progress…"

As they devolved into scientific lingo that Violet had no desire to try to understand, her mind wandered back to the boy behind the window. She crossed her arms as she usually did when she was thinking about something and she turned to look at the rain hitting the windows on the opposite walls.

By the end of the visit, she didn't come to any conclusions except for one.

She wanted to see him again.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Reviews make me smile!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm on a roll.

_**May The Devil Come**_

She really, really wanted to see him again.

Little did she know that he planned on letting her.

* * *

He had been at this mental hospital for a couple months now. The numerous doctors that his whore of a mother made him see all came to the same conclusion – he was hopeless. He was a full fledged psychopath, born without a heart, born without compassion or love or sympathy. He saw people as objects to use as he pleased to get his way. He manipulated, lied, killed without remorse and with a smile on his face. He would never grow a heart. He was doomed to live as a shell, a farce of a human being.

He was a monster, a beautiful monster with hair like sunlight and eyes like night. He was a boy with hands that itched to kill and fingernails that would never wash clean of all the blood underneath them.

And so they locked him away.

They always told him and his mother that it was for his own good, that this decision was the best for him since it held the most potential for him getting better, getting normal.

But he knew the truth – they were scared of him and didn't want to deal with his own method of madness, so they imprisoned him to keep themselves safe. How pathetic.

He didn't really have contact with anyone – his mother was too busy fucking some poor sap that was stupid enough to fall in love with her to come visit her imperfect little boy. He hated her, so he would have slammed the door in that bitch's face anyway. Doctors would come and go, a revolving mass of faces that blended together as they stuck to the same interminably boring schedule. Come in, try to coax out how he was feeling, check on his medication, hastily write something down, exit, repeat. He knew he scared the crap out of them and that they had no desire to be near him any longer than absolutely necessary. Nurses were the worst. He had said "Boo" to one of them – a homely thing with mousy hair and buck teeth – and she actually peed her pants and ran out of the room screaming.

Pathetic.

He needed someone who could handle him, who would put up a fight, who would call him out on his bullshit, who wasn't afraid of him.

He needed someone who would challenge him.

And then he saw her.

* * *

He didn't know what drew him to the window that day. He usually doesn't give two shits about what is going on in the hallway, but for some reason he felt compelled to watch today. He amused himself by staring down some of the more skittish personnel, smirking when they would break eye contact – even though he could not miss the gratifying sheen of terror in their irises – and quickly walk past.

Then she came by.

And she looked at him.

And she held his gaze.

The first thing he felt was shock – he was surprised she maintained eye contact at all. Everyone else couldn't or wouldn't, but she did. Why? How was she different?

The next thing he felt was mirth, bubbling up deep inside him and it made itself known with a playful smirk gracing his features. Her eyes slightly widened in recognition of his change in facial features, but she still held his gaze like she couldn't yet believe that he was real, like he was a puzzle and she was desperately trying to figure him out.

He growled as her father called out to her and she ran towards his voice. He felt a small pang of something – sadness? jealousy? anger? – because he couldn't look into her eyes anymore.

But the sheer glee from before rose up again like a volcano and he let out a loud laugh that the normal people on the premises might have labeled as that of a maniac. He couldn't stop laughing and in the midst of his hilarity, he finally felt like something had been set in motion, something that couldn't be stopped, something that would snap him out of the stasis he had been banished to ever since he was forced to step foot in this godforsaken place.

Because he had finally found the one who would challenge him.

* * *

"Bye, mom. I love you."

"Bye, Viv, we'll come back soon. Make sure you do everything the doctor tells you."

She watches as her father kisses her mother's cheek gently and it reminds her of how they used to be before this whole mess. She is sure it reminds him of how they were when they first meet, full of laughter, excitement, and joy instead of hospital bills, dead babies, and sadness.

"Bye."

Her mother was back staring out the window again, seemingly immersed in the raindrops splattering on the glass.

And suddenly she is so, so angry at her mother, angry at the pain she is putting them through, at her indifference to their own problems and sorrow, at her inability or worse, unwillingness, to care about either of them anymore.

She opens her mouth to say something to relieve the wrath, but she stops because if she said all the things her anger is pushing her to say, what would she accomplish? Nothing.

So she swallows down her anger like an ice cube, shuttering as its slickness coats the inside of her throat.

Her father dejectedly opens the door and walks out of the room. She sighs, looking back at her mother, and follows behind him because really, does she have any other choice?

As she goes back down the white hallway with tiny rooms and frazzled medics, her breath quickens as she realizes that she is nearing his window. Suddenly she feels like she has tunnel vision, the hallway warping smaller and smaller until all that is left is his room – the room with the beautiful boy who is so out of place in this world of defeat and despair.

Would she see him again?

Only three more windows.

Her feet speed up even though she can't remember ordering them to.

Two.

Her heart feels like it is beating so hard that it will burst out of her chest and color the floor a brilliant red.

One.

And she looks.

And there he is.

* * *

He was even more blindingly beautiful than before if it were possible.

She stared back at him as she had done on her previous trip, helpless to look away because his enigmatic charisma was too enticing. She was sure her mouth was hanging open again like a fool and she really hoped she wasn't drooling or doing anything else equally mortifying at the moment.

He gave her a smirk that she was sure was his trademark.

But this time she did something different, something that even surprised herself.

She smirked right back at him.

* * *

He was hoping that she would look for him again and she did not disappoint. As he heard her dainty, delicate footsteps come closer, he pinned down her exact moment of looking like clockwork.

Three.

Two.

One.

And her hazel eyes were locked to his again.

He smirked even wider than he had before. This petite girl had kept his gaze twice in two hours when everyone else couldn't lift their eyes to him once ever.

Oh, yes.

She was different, that one.

And then she did something that he did not expect at all.

She smirked back.

His smirk grew into a full blown grin, his lips curling up over his teeth like a predator. She was a spitfire, all right, and he decided right then that she was his spitfire. She was perfect for him. And he was going to show her that he was perfect for her.

Oh, yes.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

A/N: Oh, scheming Tate! Reviews make me happy.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm back. This idea just won't quit. Also, I am moving to Maryland tomorrow and will probably be MIA for about a week.

My soundtrack for writing this chapter was "Jailbreak" by Janine The Machine.

_**May The Devil Come**_

If it was raining when they were at the hospital, it was pouring by the time they got back to the house. Thankfully she had the foresight to bring an umbrella in the car with them because she checked the weather beforehand. As they walked in the door, her father closed the umbrella promptly and stuck it in the stand soaking wet. Violet made a disgruntled noise because no matter how many times she told her dad that opening an umbrella indoors did not incur bad luck, he never listened.

"Hey, Vi, I think I am going to have a snack. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good."

The time right after a visit with her mom was always bad for the both of them. She usually sulked in her room, listening to Cobain and Morrissey and losing herself in their lyrics. Her dad immersed himself in either his psychiatric work or whatever sport was on TV. Neither of them talked for a while, probably because they were so wrapped up in their own thoughts. It made for some quiet dinners.

She trudged up to her room, not caring that she made the squeaky step creek loudly. Throwing her somewhat damp cardigan on the floor, she flopped down on her bed, her arms spread out and feet dangling off the side.

Finally, she could think about that boy in peace.

She started off with the basics. He was handsome if nothing else; she would have had to been blind not to see that. He did not seem to threaten her when they made eye contact, so she couldn't say that she was afraid of him in an individual, self-preservation sense. He smirked back at her, so she knew he was playful. However, playful in a mental hospital usually doesn't mean light jokes or silly pranks.

He was in that hospital for a reason. And she was willing to bet money that he was some serious sort of fucked up in the head. Someone like that doesn't just get locked up for nothing.

He was dangerous. And she needed to remember that.

So that meant that no matter how innocent or nice he seemed on the outside, she couldn't assume that was how he was on the inside. For all she knew, he could be an evil monster who just saw her as a toy, a plaything he could toss around until he tired of her. She had to keep her guard up.

But those eyes weren't going to make it easy.

* * *

He had to get out of here.

He had to meet her.

And he knew just how he was going to do it.

* * *

Her father had gone to bed ages ago, exhausted from the visit and the subsequent stress she knew he felt when he agonized over how he couldn't help her mother. She couldn't blame him – between his job dealing with other people's problems and his comatose-like wife, she would be tired too. But she had always been a night owl, basking in the calming quiet of the early hours. She finally felt alone with her thoughts, no distractions from the noises of human life or the gaudy sunlight; it was just her and the crickets chirping and the cicadas humming.

She turned on the small TV she had in her room because she had nothing better to do. The late night news was on, interrupted sporadically with annoying infomercials advertising products that she was sure didn't work, like a pill that supposedly made you lose ten pounds in two days, or that were just fucking stupid.

Suddenly in the middle of one about a kitchen contraption that chops veggies "faster and safer than any knife," the news cut back on with an emergency breaking news report.

The headline running below the newscaster made her sit forward.

_**PATIENT ESCAPES FROM LOCAL MENTAL HOSPITAL.**_

She quickly snapped herself out of her disbelief so she could process what the newscaster was saying.

"About an hour ago, a patient escaped from a local mental hospital after subduing guards and disabling the security system. According to the doctors who have been treating him, he could be a danger to others as well as to himself."

Then they flashed his picture on the screen.

* * *

Her blood ran cold.

It was him.

He's loose.

The newscaster babbled onward about how anyone who has sighted him or has other information about his motives or where he might go should contact the police, but Violet didn't hear a word she said. She fell back against the pillows with a whoosh and pulled her purple comforter around her like it was a strong shield between her and whatever was coming next.

The monster is out to play.

And she has a sinking feeling that she knows who he is looking for.

* * *

It was too easy.

The security guards that he had defeated would later say that he had a bored look on his face as he punched them and later, once he got his hands on one of their guns, shot them into submission. One even said that he heard him utter just one sentence before he bolted out the door and into the rainy night.

"Come on. Challenge me."

* * *

He knew the doctors probably told the media enough about him to ignite a small frenzy since he was, as they put it, a danger to society. He had to be as inconspicuous as possible until he found her.

He ditched the clothes he was wearing in the hospital for a hoodie, plain t-shirt, and jeans he easily shoplifted from a store not far from his house that thankfully did not have a TV playing live. He just turned on his charm to distract the fluttering salesgirls around him. As he outwardly flattered them, he grew to despise them more and more. He scoffed at their naivety.

Amateurs.

He wasn't stupid enough to ask for a ride – that would just invite opportunities for nosy people to pry and learn too much – so he walked to the only place he really knew to go.

His house.

* * *

This can't be happening.

No. No. This isn't real.

But it was.

It was terrifyingly real.

She couldn't sit still. Her room felt stifling.

She got up from her bed, pacing nervously in front of her window, arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes frantically darting all around her room like he might jump out at her at any second.

What could she do?

She couldn't call the police – she really had no information for them. She didn't know him, she only saw him for the first time in her life today. And she couldn't really say that based off of two gazes and a smirk exchange that he was headed right for her. They would think that she was as batshit crazy as he was.

But she knew without a doubt that he was searching for her.

The question was did she want to be found?

* * *

It must have taken an hour or so for him to make it back to his house. All the lights were off as he expected – her mother was an early bird, so she would be dead to the world at this hour, especially if she is pumped full of whiskey as she usually is. He smirked. All the easier to steal from you, my dear.

He slinked up the driveway, crouching behind the cars, when he sees a light above him to his right.

He looked up.

And there she was.

* * *

She was pacing back and forth in front of her window, the soft light from her colored lamp illuminating her face.

His mouth couldn't possibly stretch any wider. What were the odds that the girl he was searching for, the girl that he was prepared to hunt all over LA for, lived next door to him? The irony was too much and he let out a satisfied chuckle.

He then noticed that she had this worried look on her face and all the pieces fell in place.

She knew. She knew that he had escaped. She knew that he was looking for her.

He gave a soft smile to himself as he applauded her silently in his head. His girl was a smart one.

The next thing to do, now that he found her, was glaringly, obviously simple.

It was time to pay his spitfire a little visit.

* * *

A/N: Oh, boy! Reviews warm my heart!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Well, I am completely exhausted – the drive down was only mildly harrowing and now I'm trying not to strangle my parents as we get my apartment all together. As much as I love them, when you're with them 24/7, they get on my nerves. But despite all this, I am going to update for y'all because quite frankly, this idea has been plaguing me – it's like, write me, write me, you're going to see the scene so vividly in your head that you need to write me NOW. It's like a petulant child. And I am so flattered by the overwhelmingly positive response – I'm glad it's getting your little Violate hearts racing. On we go.

_**May The Devil Come**_

He thought it was funny that he was breaking and entering into his own house.

He grabbed some clothes, toiletries, and other necessities from his room. He noticed that his mother did not change a single thing in there since he had been gone. He figured that was because she wanted to still live in her fantasy of denial that he was anything but the handsome, smart track star she had envisioned and wanted from his birth.

Well, she did get handsome and smart. Too bad he was smart when it comes to manipulating and killing people instead of breaking the four minute mile.

He popped out one of the floorboards that was loose underneath his bed. Bingo. He pulled out his stash of drugs – uppers, cocaine, and some good quality pot – and tucked it in his pocket. He did not use particularly often, but it was nice to have around when he was especially on edge. He also didn't know when or how he was going to get more of it, so might as well stock up on it now while he is in his house with everyone asleep.

He crept down the hallway as silently and stealthily as a cat, the only noise being the sound of his shallow breathing. As he went back through the kitchen, he shook his head at the half-finished bottle of Jack on the table and an empty shot glass teetering precariously on the perimeter.

Typical.

As he shut the back door, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and checked her window once more.

It was still lit.

He grinned.

He was never one to wait.

* * *

She had marginally calmed herself down, marginally being the key word, when she heard a sharp rap on her window pane.

She froze, terrified to either turn around and face whatever monster was literally at her windowpane or not turn around and not know the danger lurking ever so close to her sanctuary.

Another rap.

She started violently, spine ramrod straight and tense, hairs standing up on her arms.

She couldn't turn around. She couldn't do it. Shit, shit!

Yet another rap.

Her breathing sped up, her head was spinning – she was having a panic attack at the least opportune moment. She muttered to herself under her breath, wondering if she really is becoming crazy.

"Come on, pull it together, Violet. You're brave. Face it head on."

With a steadying breath, she slowly but surely turned around.

And there he was.

* * *

There he was, framed perfectly by her window, hair whipping in the wind and smiling like he had not a care in the damn world.

Then he spoke and she realized that this was the first time she had heard his voice and it was just as, if not more, low and melodious as she imagined it.

"Won't you please open the window?"

He made it sound like a request, but Violet wasn't stupid. It was a thinly veiled order and as fascinated as she was by him, she did not trust him, not by a long shot. He could snap her neck as easily as breaking a twig. He looked at her expectantly.

She crossed her room hesitantly to the window and slowly lifted it up. He slid under in a flash and was suddenly behind her, his mouth dangerously close to her ear.

"Hello."

God, just that one word was enough to turn her legs to jelly with both fear and something else that she was not going to think about. But she had to be strong, had to show him that she would not be manipulated and cowed by him.

"I'll scream."

"You won't."

He sound so damn sure of himself, so sure that she wasn't going to make a peep, that she suddenly got angry. How dare he presume anything about her! So just to spite him, she opened her mouth wide like she was going to scream the bloody house down.

His hand clamped down instantly on her mouth, his strong fingers making it literally impossible to make any noise louder than an indignant muffled snarl. His other hand grabbed her around her waist and pulled her flush against him. She could feel his hard, taunt muscles staining against her back, fueled by adrenaline, and she was filled with a sense of horrifying clarity – this is how a killer feels up close. Tight, lean, lethal.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She bit down on one of his fingers, which he retracted with a slight hiss. She jerked her head back quickly and was rewarded with a satisfying crack. His hands fell from her body and she spun away from him, breathing hard and making sure her eyes never left his.

"Let's just say I don't take orders well."

He chuckled, wiping the trickle of blood from his nose onto his sleeve and looking back up at her.

"I knew I was going to like you."

* * *

They were at a standstill, neither of them moving in case their actions prompted the other to do something the other didn't want. In his case, he didn't want do anything that would get him caught. In her case, she didn't want to do anything that would get her killed.

"I'll still scream."

"You haven't yet."

Damn him, he fucking knew she wasn't going to give him away. She was too curious for her own good. She needed to figure him out first.

She sighed, cautiously moving to her bed to sit down. He took this gesture as her acceptance that he was not leaving, but he still didn't move. For some reason, he didn't want to frighten her and he knew right now if he did anything so much as cough loudly, she would run away from him. And he couldn't have that.

"So you escaped."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I was bored."

Out of all the answers, that was the one she least expected. She must have made a face because he laughed softly.

"And I wanted to see you again."

That got her attention. Her face whipped up to his again and he could see a flurry of emotions going through her eyes.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did."

He couldn't explain to her that he knew he needed her – that she provided the challenge, the excitement that he craved – just from their two short encounters. He couldn't say that he was going to make her realize how much she wanted and needed him. She already knew he was fucked in the head, so he could only imagine how well that conversation would have gone over.

She pushed herself off her bed and in a surprising display of courage, she walked a few steps towards him.

"Alright, so now you saw me. So you can skedaddle your crazy ass back to the hospital or somewhere else that's not my bedroom."

He took a step forward and that motion seemed to scale back her bravery as she quickly shuffled backwards.

"Well, that might be a problem. You see, the thing is, I can't go back."

"Can't or won't?"

He grinned savagely at her.

"I'm sure you can guess."

"Well, you can't be here."

"Why not?"

She blanched at his question.

"Why not? Are you crazy?" She regretted that question immediately.

"You could say that."

Holy shit.

"You cannot be here. You know that as well as I do."

"Or you just don't want me here."

"Exactly."

"Why?"

"You're asking me why? You fucking just escaped from a mental hospital and somehow found me – a girl you didn't know existed until this afternoon – all within a couple hours. You are most certainly more than a little fucked in the head and you probably did some nasty shit to those security guards. It should be obvious why I don't want you anywhere near me."

"You're scared of me."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"But I intrigue you."

She couldn't deny that. Her silence to his question give him all the answers he needed to know. He grinned at her again, moving towards her once more.

"Let me stay."

"WHAT?"

"Let me stay."

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Did you not hear what I just said? You're dangerous."

"Don't tell me that that's your reason."

"What are you talking about?"

Suddenly he was behind her again, mouth by her ear and hair tickling the nape of her neck. How did he move that far that fast?

"You like being scared. You crave danger. You love it. You live for it."

She hissed back angrily at him, turning her head as much as she could to face him partially.

"Don't you dare pretend to know anything about me."

"I don't have to."

His words were ghosting over the shell of her ear and it sent delicious shivers down her spine.

"You want to feel the thrill of danger, of doing something that you know is utterly wrong. And what could be as wrong and as dangerous as me?"

* * *

A/N: Even I'm sweating. Reviews make this tired, stressed out writer very happy.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Spending five straight days with your parents yelling and stressing over everything was grueling. But I am finally moved in and am taking a much deserved rest day. And so my murderous muse Tate stomped up and demanded that I continue for all of you lovely readers. Shall we?

_**May The Devil Come**_

"Let me stay."

She could hardly believe it when those three words came out of his mouth. The shock and adrenaline rush from turning around to find him at her second story window came swooping back. So many emotions – fear, disbelief, excitement – careened dangerously in her mind and she hoped that he didn't see any weakness on her face. Because she just knew that he would take advantage of it.

"Let me stay."

Is he out of his mind?

Oh, wait.

But maybe she was, too, because she wanted to let him.

* * *

"You want to feel the thrill of danger, of doing something that you know is utterly wrong. And what could be as wrong and as dangerous as me?"

Why was she so hot? Her cheeks were burning and she began to tremble despite her mind screaming at her to get a grip. It was like her body had disconnected itself from her brain and it was completely at his mercy. She grasped desperately at her last straws of resistance.

"Get away from me." But it was a weak reply and he grinned ferociously. Because he knew he had her.

"But you don't really want me to do that, do you?"

She did not reply, but instead felt herself lean back into him. His breath traced her neck this time and his lips were so close she thought she would spontaneously combust from the anticipation.

He had his answer.

"Such a sweet little thing."

How could something so endearing sound so dirty and rife with implications? She felt that he was ripping away her layers, exposing her filthy little secrets to his sinister eyes. She was the naïve Little Red Riding Hood and he was the Big Bad Wolf, come out to play. The prey and the predator locked in a dance of wits and seduction.

He lightly caressed her side with his fingertips, dragging his nails down and causing shooting shivers to erupt through her entire being. She swore that she even let out a soft mewl.

"So brave."

She could feel his other hand entwining in her hair. She could hear him deeply inhale and she knew he could smell her shampoo.

"So mouth watering."

His voice rumbled, slow and husky, throughout the room.

She couldn't do anything. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't blink.

He had paralyzed her so effortlessly. He made her so overwhelmed with sensation that she couldn't think. She was both hyperaware of everything and yet all she could focus on was him, his touch, his mouth. She was already in too deep. It was a terrifying realization.

And an exhilarating one.

"Let me stay."

And his lips finally, finally touched her neck and she broke into a thousand pieces, crumbling at the sheer power that this boy possessed.

"Yes."

She could feel him smile into her skin.

* * *

"Violet! Come on, you have school! Get up!"

She awoke with a jolt and almost fell off her bed. She was not a morning person by any means, so she was still enveloped in a groggy haze. She groaned her annoyance at being woken up so rudely. What a strange dream she had – maybe that's why she felt so tired and restless.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm up."

She rubbed her eyes and turned over to see two dark eyes staring back at her. Before she could scream, his hand clamped down on her mouth and he brought a finger to his lips in a warning.

One thing was for sure – she was wide awake now.

"Remember me?"

And she did. The night before came flooding back. He wasn't a dream. He was real and he was in her bed.

Holy shit.

She nodded and he slowly took his hand off her mouth. She was breathing hard, but she wasn't sure if it was from surprise, fright, or the fact that a very attractive boy was inches away from her.

"Good morning."

The absurdity of the situation did not fit his mundane statement and she barked out a short laugh.

"You're real. I didn't imagine you. You're here."

"In the flesh."

The sinful way he talked to her should be outlawed.

"So you convinced me to let you stay."

He grinned savagely.

"Yes, but it was a tough sell."

He was so full of bullshit. She crumbled like a coffee cake. It was pathetic and she resolved right then to stand her ground against him. She could let him stay, but it was her rules now. And she could play with the best of them.

"Are you sure you weren't locked away for being able to mind control people?"

"Pretty positive."

She locked her gaze with him again and the same thrill that he felt when he first saw her in the hospital came back. Then she grabbed his chin forcefully and pulled him so close to her that she could kiss him if she wanted. They just stared at each other in silence until her face broke out in a smirk that easily could have rivaled his own.

"Get off my bed."

"So cranky in the morning."

"You bet your crazy ass I am."

* * *

She was easy enough to convince. He just had to turn on the charm and get at her weaknesses, which, as a diagnosed psychopath, was his specialty. He always got what he wanted out of people. What he didn't expect was how much she affected him back.

She was stunning. She was quick and she was fierce, most definitely. Her curiosity was so insatiable that he knew that it would get her into some big trouble.

And it had. With him.

As much as he intrigued her, she intrigued him. He wanted to be around her. He wanted her to want to be around him. He mostly just saw people as pawns, puppets, toys for him to break and disregard as he pleased. But she was different.

She would challenge him. And he wanted her to.

* * *

The warmth of her shower felt so good. As she lathered herself with her favorite body wash, she mulled over what was happened in the past 24 hours.

She went from an average if somewhat angsty teen with typical teen problems to someone who was now hiding a mentally disturbed boy with a less-than-clean rap sheet in her room from the cops.

If anyone told her that all this would happen to her yesterday, she would have laughed in his face and had him committed.

And now she had to go to school and pretend everything was normal while a decidedly not-so-normal boy had free access to her personal space that he could pick clean apart for information that she was not willing to share with anyone, especially him.

What would he find about her? What would he use against her? She shuddered when she remembered how fast she caved to him the night before. She wasn't used to being that weak, feeling that helpless. She was sure that her feeling that way was unique to him.

She absentmindedly dried herself off and emerged from the bathroom to find him sprawled on her bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"Didn't I tell you to get off my bed?"

He turned to look at her and she was only too aware of the fact that she was covered by only a towel.

"You did. I just didn't listen."

"Well, you need to leave. I need to get dressed for school."

He jumped off the bed and strode towards her with the confidence that she knew would get her in trouble.

"What if I don't want to?"

She gathered up her courage and replied with such intensity that she was sure he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I'll make you."

He leaned down over her face and she tried not to get lost in his eyes.

"Someday you won't want to make me leave."

She couldn't tell him that that day might come sooner rather than later.

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"Everyone gives into me eventually."

"Too bad I'm not like everyone else."

The way he looked at her as she said that made her shiver. He looked at her like he both wanted to break her resolve and worship her as if she were the most beautiful girl on earth.

"Now, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. My dad should be out most of the day running errands, so get some food for yourself while he's not here. And don't go through my stuff."

"No promises."

"I didn't expect any from you."

* * *

A/N: HOT TATE. Reviews make me happy.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: WOW. You guys are just oh so nice to me. I think Violet is 16 in the series, so she will be driving.

_**May The Devil Come**_

History class never seemed so long. And it was only third period.

Violet sighed as she looked at the window. It was overcast and she could see darker clouds coming in from the coast. It was only a matter of time before it would be raining cats and dogs and she stupidly forgot her umbrella because, when you have a deranged, hot boy prancing around your room, you understandably get distracted.

"In World War II, Hitler gathered power by a number of different political and social ways…"

Her teacher droned on and on, but she wasn't paying attention. Everything seemed so stupid, so insignificant in the ocean of problems that was her life right now. Why should she care about what happened so many years ago? She could barely handle what had happened last night, what was still happening now.

She propped her head up with her arm and she doodled faces with blond hair and dark eyes in her notebook as she waited for the end of an endless day.

* * *

After she left, he waited for her father to leave. As soon as he heard the telltale click of the door, he started down the stairs to the kitchen to make himself breakfast. As he watched the eggs turn white under the heat of the pan, he started to think about how he was actually going to hide from the police and keep Violet out of any trouble.

Well, they will for sure search his house. His mother would be no help since she doesn't give a shit about him anyway and she is drunk off her ass most of the time; anything she tells them would be easily dodged at worst and misleading at best. Plus, since she is hitting the booze so hard, whatever she says cannot be admissible in court anyway.

He smiles at how beautiful the plan is. They would never think to look next door to his own house. It is too bold a move – they won't think he would chance it especially since he was already locked up when the new neighbors moved in and he obviously wouldn't know or trust them enough to take him in. They would expect him to get the hell out of the city as far away and as fast as he could. He has no other connections to LA other than his mother and they could easily figure out that his mother is not the sheltering, coddling type. They'll see from his records that their relationship is strained to say the least – although he finds it funny that despite referring to his mother as "the cocksucker" every time he brings her up, their relationship is merely "strained" according to everyone else – and start searching elsewhere.

He is safe. And most importantly, so is she.

For now.

* * *

After eating, he trudged back up to her room. Her house always had given him the creeps even as a child and he didn't feel much like exploring. The only thing that really interested him was her – and, by extension, everything that was hers. And what better place to discover more about who his fierce little spitfire is than her room?

He laughed at the dearth of beauty products in her tub and on her sink as he went to take a shower. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash – only the basics, no special scrubs with lofty-sounding scents or the newest six-blade razor with moisturizing strips for her. He wasn't surprised. She was too down-to-earth, too rough around the edges.

He noticed that she had some makeup in the bathroom mirror, but it looked like it hadn't been used in a while. So she prefers the au natural look.

What a coincidence.

So does he.

He throws on a plain shirt, worn jeans, and a cardigan and surveys her room.

Dark. Full of purples and blacks and grays, like a bruise seeping out in the corners of her room.

Morbid. The stand with a bowl of dolls' heads in the corner was less than subtle.

He looked through her music and was not at all surprised by what he found – obscure bands mixed in with classic acts. She knew good music.

He couldn't help grinning.

His spitfire was more like him than she'd cared to admit.

* * *

The last bell could not come any faster. As the beloved jangling jolted through the speakers, Violet whipped her trig notebook and textbook into her bag and bolted out of the classroom before anyone else, leaving her classmates and teacher with bewildered looks on their faces. She raced to her locker, hoping she grabbed everything she needed, and ran out to her car. As she was putting her key into the ignition, she had a thought that stopped her cold.

Why was she in such a rush to get home?

She tried telling herself it was because she didn't want him going through her room and violating her privacy, but it wasn't just that.

She was excited to see him.

She missed him today.

And she doesn't even know his name.

She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and inhaled deeply.

This wasn't good.

But she couldn't quite make that realization drown out the butterflies rattling and fluttering around in her stomach.

* * *

She breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled into the driveway and saw that her dad's car was not home. As she parked her car, she could hear the raindrops splattering on the windshield.

Crap.

She yanked the emergency brake, threw open the door, and ran around to get her bag. By now, it was full on pouring and she sloshed through the yard with her now-soggy backpack until she was at the front door. She stumbled through once she could get her key to work and looked down at her now drenched clothes with disapproval.

"Got a little wet?"

She whipped up her head to see him sitting at the top of the stairs, trying desperately not to laugh and failing. She blushed furiously and opened her mouth to retort, but stopped as he stood up and walked towards her. The heat in his eyes made it clear that he knew she thought of something different when he said those words.

But she gives as good as she gets, and she smirks when the perfect response comes to her mind.

"More than a little."

* * *

After she changed into dry clothes, she lay on her bed and did homework. Or at least she tried to do homework and failed miserably. He wouldn't stop looking at her and it was driving her bonkers.

"Why are you looking at me?"

"Because I want to."

"It makes me uncomfortable."

"Sorry."

But she knew he wasn't sorry, which was confirmed by the fact that he still didn't take his eyes off her. She flipped another page of her book, willing her assignment to magically write itself because she had a hot psycho boy to figure out.

"What did you do today?"

"Took a shower, made breakfast, snooped through your shit –"

"WHAT?"

He got up and smirked as he came over to her bed.

"It wasn't as if I could resist –"

"I told you not to go through my stuff!"

"You did. And you said you didn't expect any promises from me."

She slammed her book shut with a loud wump. "You are so frustrating!"

"It's part of my charm."

He quickly ran towards the door and closed it just in time as the book smacked against right where his left shoulder blade would have been.

She could hear him laughing in the hallway as he made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

After he came back, they sat in silence for a long time, Violet concentrating on highlighting whatever was important in her book, before he spoke.

"Are you still mad?"

She heaved a sigh.

"For some reason, I can't stay mad at you."

"I'm too loveable."

"You wish."

She closed her book again. Who was she kidding? With him here, with so many questions bouncing around in her brain, homework was a lost cause.

"You need to tell me what is going on."

That got him serious. She could tell from how his eyes suddenly got cold, sharp like diamonds, and his face was set, tensed, waiting for what he knew was going to be a difficult conservation.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's too complicated and I don't want to get you involved."

"Well, you should have thought of that before you climbed up to my window like a monkey and practically seduced me into letting you stay."

"I can't tell you."

"I need to know what I'm dealing with, what we're dealing with."

"No."

God, he was so stubborn and exasperating she could just shake him until all his perfect white teeth fell out.

"At least tell me one thing."

He looked at her and she gasped slightly. She would never get used to his eyes.

"What?"

"What's your name?"

He looked down at the floor, as if he were bashful and embarrassed by the question, and then back up at her.

"Tate. I'm Tate."

She smiled, suddenly bashful too, as if this simple name sharing was much more intimate than it should be.

"What's yours?"

He already knew, but he wanted to hear her say it, wanted to burn her voice, her way of saying it, into his memory.

"Violet."

"Violet."

She shivered at how sensual he said her name back to her. She felt as if they were connected by a thread of destiny, fate, what have you, and nothing could change that they were and would always been inexplicably but powerfully drawn to each other.

But the spell was broken by a large crash downstairs and she looked fearfully at her door.

"What was that?"

* * *

A/N: CLIFFIE. I'm evil, MUAHAHA. Reviews will get you internet cookies!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: And so the cliffie will be answered. Read on, my sweets.

_**May The Devil Come**_

His head swiveled to the door as well. They heard another crash and glass shattering. She backed up towards him, sweaty hands tightly gripping the iron bars of her bed frame, knuckles ghostly white.

"My dad is not supposed to be home until much later. He's visiting my mother."

He could tell by the tremble in her voice that she was scared. He was overwhelmed by a surge of protection and placed his hand onto hers. She looked down at him in surprise, mouth parted slightly and a million questions in her eyes.

"Don't worry."

He slid off the bed and stood across from her, gripping both of her hands in his. He pulled her hands up to his face and gave her knuckles a quick kiss. He smiled down at her through long lashes.

"Don't worry. You just stay here."

And she felt safer, because he was here with her.

He started to pull his hands out of hers, but suddenly she couldn't bear the thought of him leaving her and she increased her grasp. She looked into his eyes like it was the last thing she would ever do. He responded to her fear by slowly disentangling one hand to run it down her cheek. He softly brushed away a runaway piece of hair and tucked it behind her ear.

"What happened to my little spitfire?"

She gulped and looked back at the door. They heard a gruff voice, then another, and she looked up at him with wild eyes.

"I'm not worried about me."

Just a day ago they didn't know each other and she was blown away by how painful the thought of him getting hurt was – and worse, getting caught and being taken away from her.

"I'll be careful."

And he slipped out the door.

* * *

He crept down the steps, careful to make as little noise as possible. He crouched down so he could watch the scene unfold below him through the slats of the banister.

Two guys were covered in all black and were raiding the living room – suffice to say, Tate could tell they were petty burglars. They were in the process of disconnecting the TV from the wall.

He weighed his options. He could wait it out and not make a scene, but then the place would be crawling with police later when Violet's father would come home and discover the robbery. He could confront them and make them return the stolen goods, hopefully keeping the police out of it, but he would be risking them either recognizing them right off or remembering him enough that they could identify him later. Or he could always kill them, but that would invite even more questions and he knew he didn't want Violet to know of his capacity to murder so easily. She would be afraid of him and she was just now starting to trust him ever so slightly. He couldn't risk that.

"Come on, let's go upstairs to see if there's anything worth stealing."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"When did you turn into such a pussy?"

His spine stiffened. Shit, they were coming upstairs. They would find Violet and God knows what they would do to her – beat her up, take her hostage. No, he couldn't and wouldn't let that happen.

He stood up, making sure that the stair he was on creaked a hearty groan.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, man, this house is fucking creepy."

"What happened to your balls? Let's go."

They were ascending now. He could hear them getting closer.

He smiled.

Time to play.

* * *

She had locked her door. She had her phone out with 911 already punched in the call screen. But she couldn't make the call. She couldn't, because she knew that if she made that call, the police would find him and –

She couldn't think about it.

Suddenly she heard loud yelling, then grunting as if there was a struggle downstairs.

What if –

A gunshot.

Before she knew it, she was bursting out of her room and down the hall.

"TATE!"

* * *

"Hello, gentlemen."

He walked down the stairs one at a time, making sure to pause just enough to rattle their nerves a little more every time.

"What a pleasant surprise meeting you."

He could tell that these guys were unnerved by him, but they were still trying to hide their fear and look tough. Too bad for them that he could smell fear like a bloodhound.

"I just wasn't expecting company at this hour."

"What do you want, freak?!"

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and shrugged his shoulders.

"Just a chat."

"Stop fucking around with us."

His demeanor changed in a heartbeat. He went cold, dead, on autopilot. All the blood drained from the burglars' faces because they knew something had changed and it was not in their favor.

"I don't fuck around."

"W-well, we have a gun." One of the guys pulled out a pistol and pointed it at him, but he laughed at his shaking fingers.

"It won't make a difference."

* * *

He moved so quickly that he had already kneed the other man in the stomach and dislocated his shoulder before the shot went off.

It went wide, shattering the lamp across from the sofa and he grinned. This guy has no aim.

He whipped around, grabbed the guy's shooting arm, and rammed it against the wall, resulting in a satisfying crack and a subsequent howl of pain. The gun clattered to the floor, but he was too busy smashing the guy's face against the end of the fireplace to notice that the other guy's hand curling around the barrel of the gun.

He let the guy drop to the ground with a thud, smirking smugly at his handiwork.

"TATE!"

Never had his heart stopped so fast.

"VIOLET! GET OUT – "

Another shot rang out and she screamed.

* * *

Rage.

Blinding rage.

That was the only way to describe the emotion bubbling up in his chest.

He stalked over to the guy clutching the gun and started kicking him in the chest and stomach, pummeling him over and over until his screams just became a dull moan. He kicked the gun out of the man's reach and picked it up.

"You know, I was going to spare you. For her sake."

He twirled the gun once in his fingers.

"But you tried to hurt her."

He fired a warning shot just above the man's head, causing him to whimper and look up at Tate with those eyes that know that he has met his end.

"And no one hurts what's mine."

And then he fired two clean shots through both of their skulls.

* * *

Execution-style.

That was the only way to describe it.

Clean. Efficient. Calculated.

She stared at the scene below her in both wonder and horror until he turned around to look at her with eyes that were both crazy and lost.

"Violet!"

She was already running up the stairs.

* * *

He had forgotten that she was still there. And now she had witnessed truly how much of a monster he is. He just killed two men without a shred of remorse.

"Violet!"

He let the gun fall to the floor and raced after her, taking the stairs two at a time.

He burst through her door because she had a chance to lock it.

"Violet – "

"Get away from me!"

"Please –"

"NO!"

She backed herself away from him until she bumped into the wall, lips quivering and tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

He approached her slowly, one hand out in front of him, like he was trying to calm a wounded wild animal.

"Violet, it's okay."

"Are you fucking kidding me!? Tate, you just killed them!"

"Listen – "

"NO! Go away!"

"Violet, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, but when I heard the gunshot and you scream, I thought that they shot you. And I got so, so mad, I couldn't control it. I couldn't stand the thought of them hurting you. Violet, please understand!"

"You're a monster."

"I know."

That reply jolted her out of her hysteria and she looked at him. She knew that he was insane, but to be confronted by it in such a way…There was a huge difference between knowing that someone is batshit crazy and seeing it flashed before you like some horrible nightmare.

But he killed for her. He killed to protect her.

How could she process that? How did she even feel about it?

"Violet, I never wanted you to see that side of me. I didn't want you to be scared of me."

He crept closer to her and she allowed him to crouch down next her and take her hand.

"I couldn't lose you."

"You just met me."

"That doesn't matter."

They sat in silence for a minute or so, but to her it felt like forever.

"What are we going to do?"

"The police are going to be crawling all over this place soon. Someone must have heard the gunshots. I'm going to need to make myself scarce so they can't trace this crime to me."

"So where will you go?"

"I have my hideouts. I will lie low in a couple of them until this dies down."

"What should I do?"

"Tell them exactly as it happened. You heard people breaking into your house and stayed upstairs in fear. Then you heard shots fired and when you finally went downstairs to check it out, you saw the two of them dead. Suggest it was due to a disagreement about the earnings of the heist or something."

"What about your fingerprints on the gun?"

"They won't find mine."

"How?"

"I covered my firing hand with my sleeve before shooting them, so none of my fingerprints would show up. And the residue would end up on my shirt rather than my hand, which I can easily burn once I get away."

"So this means you're leaving?"

He smiled down at her.

"Yes. I don't want to get you any more involved in this."

She whimpered and gripped his hand.

"Thanks, for saving me."

"Hey, look at me." How could someone who could kill so effortlessly talk to her so tenderly?

She did.

"You saved me first."

He got up and went to the window, hiking up and throwing one leg over the sill. Before he descended out of her view, he gave her another smirk.

"Oh, and Violet?"

"What?"

"I'll be back."

She shook her head.

"I'm counting on it."

And he was gone.

For now.

* * *

A/N: OH BOY. Reviews make me smile.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm blushing.

_**May The Devil Come**_

She made sure that he would have gotten far enough away from the house before she called her dad, marveling at how calm she was on the phone as she described what was going on. He burst through the door twenty minutes later to a scene out of a horror movie – broken furniture, arms bent at wrong angles, and of course, the blood everywhere, seeping into the crevices of the hardwood floor. Ten minutes after that, the police swarmed the house and she was poked and prodded with questions until the wee hours of the morning. Finally her dad stood up for her and told the detectives to back off because can't they see she is in shock and needs some rest?!

But when she laid down her head that night, the last thing she could do was sleep.

He killed them because they were going to hurt her. She knew she should be horrified, disgusted, outraged, in disbelief over how he took away life, even if that life was in the form of two measly, stupid robbers.

And she was, she really was, when she first saw him kill them. She couldn't believe that he would do such a horrible thing.

But it was all for her.

In a twisted way, she was flattered.

* * *

The police were back again the next day, but she had no more answers for them. Apparently the robbers had broken into another house the night before, but no one thought that this crime was part of anything bigger – no mob or crime rings for them, they're too damn generic to get caught in anything remotely interesting or _20/20_ worthy – and so they left her broken family alone to pick up the broken pieces of their living room.

As much as she knew he wouldn't risk it, she really, really wanted him to come back that night.

But he didn't.

She wondered if he knew that she fell asleep to the thought of his lips on hers.

* * *

It's been a week now.

Just a week, but it feels like eternity to her.

She cannot concentrate at school and she doesn't give a shit about doing homework. How can she, with her mother choking down antidepressants and a crazy boy she is way too attached to living in danger of being dragged back to that hellhole at any possible moment?

She is finding that she is losing herself to her thoughts way too often and she wonders if it's genetic.

* * *

Ten days.

She has been counting every second.

She hopes he is, too.

* * *

"Violet, what do you want for dinner?"

She slides off the kitchen counter as her father walks in carrying two heaping bags of groceries, ignoring the slight glance of disapproval he shoots her.

"I don't really care. What do you want?"

"I was thinking that some pasta with meatballs sounds good."

"That's fine with me. Do you need any help?"

"No, honey, I'll cook. It's been a rough time for you."

You have no idea.

"Well, call me when it's ready. I'll be up in my room."

She walked up the stairs, pausing where she was when she watched Tate kill the intruders. She remembers screaming as the second shot rang out; it went high, lodging itself in the wood two feet above her head, but she hit the deck hard anyway, slamming her stomach against the stairs, hissing at the pain shooting through her ribs. Her breath was rapid and shallow and her pulse was beating like a drum in her veins. That's when she saw him go ballistic, kicking the ever-loving shit out of the shooter before burying a bullet deep within both their brains.

She shuddered before she resumed climbing. She wasn't sure if she shuddered due to horror or something else.

* * *

She walked into her room and she sensed immediately that something was off.

She scanned the room slowly, zeroing in on anything that looked out of place, anything that would give her a hint. She slowly approached her bed, eyes suspiciously combing through every detail.

Nothing.

She analyzed her desk. Her laptop was in its same position, the tower of books was the same height as before, and she couldn't tell if anything else had been moved. She looked back at the window, and suddenly she found it – her curtain had been tucked behind the edge of her sill and she never does that. The realization comes so suddenly that she whips around her body around, searching frantically as her head turns this way and that.

Someone's been here.

They may not have left.

A hand out of nowhere clamps down on her mouth from behind her and she lets out a severely muffled scream, struggling against this iron grip with all she has because she wants it off her – her mind is whirling, get off, get off me, GET AWAY – before –

"Gotcha."

And all the fight immediately leaves her and she didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry.

"I'm back."

* * *

"You fucking asshole, you scared me half to death!"

"Sorry, but you know as well as I do that I can't take any chances."

"Are you – "

"I'm alright, maybe acquired a few bumps and bruises along the way." He wriggles his eyebrows. "Trouble always seems to find me."

"Please, you are the trouble."

She was answered with a devastatingly handsome grin.

"So no tails?"

"Nope, I did a pretty solid job of covering my tracks. How about you? How was handling the police?"

"Fine, I told them exactly as you told me. Obviously I left you out. They were really pushy, though, kept pestering me with questions."

"They get like that when they don't have any leads or any doughnuts to choke on."

She gave a small laugh and looked up at him shyly. He looked back at her and both of them could feel the mood change. She could feel the electricity buzzing between them. He scooted closer to her and gave her a smirk that she swore was made to kill female victims by hormone storm.

"Miss me?"

"A little."

She knew she wasn't fooling anybody. She shivered as he sat half-Indian style, one leg bent against her back with the other parallel to hers. He leaned down so his stubble was lightly scratching the skin behind her ear.

"Just a little?"

She sucked down a big breath of air to try to settle her nerves as his breath sailed hot and husky into her ear.

"I think it was more than just a little."

"Maybe."

"Admit it." He started sucking lightly on her neck and she thought that she was going to explode in a burst of butterflies. "You really missed me. I bet you even got a little turned on by the thought of me killing those guys for you."

Her silence is as good as affirmation.

"Say it, Violet. Say you missed me. Say you want me."

She couldn't believe herself as she let out a small moan. How could he do that, how could he say just a few sentences and turn her mind to mush?

"VIOLET! Dinner's ready!"

The air changes and all the tension was swept away as she bolted up, breathing hard as she went towards the door.

"I have to go."

And she ran from the room.

* * *

He couldn't help smirking as he watched her flush body retreat. He knew she missed him, he knew that she probably went over that scene again and again in her head, and, because she is a lot more like him than she thinks, she realized that deep, down inside, she liked it. She liked that he killed for her. She was confused that she found something she should consider so heinous as romantic, poetic, even.

And just now confirmed his suspicions beyond a doubt.

She is falling in as deep as he already has.

She just needed the time apart to begin to accept it. She needed to get used to the idea that she was his – at least in his mind. Why else would he have killed them if he didn't see her as belonging to him, as his to protect?

He already knew she found him attractive – that much was confirmed by her flirtatious comments and brusque orders that day so long ago. She was not the type of girl to go all sultry on a guy she likes – she likes to fight, put him off guard, act mean as a way to both hide and showcase her intentions.

That's why she gets all jittery when he turns up the charm, tries to seduce her, because she doesn't know how to handle it. She is like a cat cornered, fur raised and hissing, but also willing to lick your hand if you know the right move.

It's cute, actually.

He pushes himself up off the floor and goes to lie on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She was his. He just wondered if she realized how much he was hers in return.

* * *

A/N: Reviews make me happy!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: D'aww, thanks, guys!

_**May The Devil Come**_

This might be just about the most awkward dinner ever.

How was she supposed to calmly and casually eat her pasta when he is lounging about in her room, just waiting for her? Just the thought of him causes her to smile. She likens it to an involuntary reaction, like when the doctor bangs that hammer thing against your knee and your leg jerks whether or not you want it to. She just can't help it.

"You look happy."

Shit! She couldn't really tell him it's because she was thinking about a handsome mental health patient stowing away in her room who has a penchant for murdering in cold blood, especially people who try to hurt her. She doesn't think he'd see the romantic side of it.

"Yeah, uh, I just had a really great day today at school."

That statement was probably the most outrageous lie she has ever uttered in her life. She knows if her daughter is even remotely like her and ever said something like that to her, she would break out in hives due to an intense allergic reaction to bullshit.

"That's good."

Cue the clueless father, stage right.

"Yeah."

They went back to eating in silence. She chases her meatball around the linguini, lost in thought, until her father scrapes the floor as he pushes back his chair.

"Hey, Vi, give me your plate, I'll clean."

"Really? Are you sure? I mean, you already cooked and everything…"

"It's fine, I'm sure you have homework to do."

"Thanks."

It took all of her willpower to walk normally towards the stairs instead of bolting like she so wanted to.

"Oh, and Vi?"

"Yes?"

"I want to go visit your mother tomorrow and I know that she would like to see you."

She opened her mouth to retort because both of them knew her mother barely acknowledges either of them anymore, but she shuts her mouth because besides cause an argument and some tears, what good would it do?

"Okay."

"So make sure you come right home after school."

"Alright. Call me if you need any help, Dad."

"I will."

Her pace up the stairs was almost as fast as the beating of her heart.

* * *

"Any food for me?"

"You need to wait until my dad goes to bed. I'm sure he'd wonder why I'm taking another massive helping up to my room when I just ate an hour ago."

"But I'm hungry."

"Too bad."

"I guess I'll just have to eat you instead."

Her head shot up so fast she wondered how she didn't get whiplash. He chuckled at the look at her face and slinked towards where she was sitting on the floor.

"I'd bet you'd taste sweet."

Everything around her slowed. Her mind felt it had been hypnotized and her body felt like it was on fire yet deathly cold at the same time. She is positive that her face looks like a fire truck and stop sign had a baby on her face. He smirked as he saw her eyes dart back and forth across his face before meeting his gaze.

"Just one bite."

C'mon, Violet, snap out of it.

She leaned towards him, breath tickling his ear, and he is both slightly taken back and thrilled by this development.

"Great, so I'm hiding a cute, psycho cannibal in my bedroom."

He leaned down so he mirrored her position, poised above the soft shell of her ear.

"Even I'm not that crazy."

He grinned as she pulled away to go back to reading her book.

Fur still raised, but a tentative lick.

* * *

She groaned as her alarm clock went off at 7 AM. God, she was not ready to go waste her time on another mediocre, boring day at school.

"So don't go."

His blond head popped up from the floor where she had made a nice, cozy nest of blankets and pillows for him. Because sharing the bed was out of the question – for obvious reasons. She was pretty sure the sexual tension would smother her to death, for one.

"I have to go. My dad will kill me if I don't."

"He won't even know that you didn't leave."

He climbed up and went to sit down next to her, brushing her hair back. She was never so aware of the fact that she slept in a camisole and short shorts.

"Stay with me."

Oh, how she wanted to.

He gave her a small kiss on her shoulder blade and she shivered.

"Stay."

She was so close to giving in, so close –

"VIOLET! YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

"Shit."

She got up and started pulling out the clothes she wanted to wear with a sigh. He came up behind her and put his arms around her, swaying her to the beat of some inaudible song.

"It's okay, I understand."

"You have no idea how much I'd rather spend my day with you, but I don't want to draw my dad's attention any more than I already have. And suddenly skipping out on school will raise suspicion."

She turned around to face him.

"I can't. I can't do anything that might get you caught."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

He let go of her reluctantly so she could jump in the shower.

It was going to be a long day for the both of them.

* * *

She couldn't fucking believe that she had to do a team project for her science class. She already loathes the entire student body for their fakeness – fake skin, nails, hairs, boobs, you name it – and their obsession with things that don't matter, like who's dating who and who has the fanciest car. She would give anything just to have her mom back and she now has to work with kids whose biggest problem is convincing their daddies to pay for their nose jobs.

"Spare me."

"I know, I don't really want to do this either."

She looked at her assigned partner. He was average height, had a nice enough smile. She remembered him vaguely because she always saw him skateboarding in the parking lot after class.

He let his books drop next to hers on their lab bench. He stuck his hand out to hers and smiled slightly when she looked quizzically down at it.

"Truce? We don't like anyone at this school, but if we tolerate each other, we would get this done a lot faster."

She took it and gave it a firm pump.

"I like the way you think."

"I'm Gabe."

"Violet."

"Nice to meet you, Violet. So, how about we get down to it?"

"Yes, let's."

* * *

They stayed in the cafeteria after school to finish the first half of the project. She was surprised at how normal and down-to-earth he was in this school full of wannabes and posers. They laughed at how stupid their peers were and she was surprised that it was already 5:30 PM when she glanced at the clock.

"Oh, wow, have we really been here this long?"

He followed to where her eyes were looking.

"Must have. I lost track of time."

"Me too. Must have been all the fun I was having."

He smiled back at her.

And suddenly she remembered.

"Shit! Shit!" She started violently throwing her things into her bookbag as Gabe stared at her with a bewildered look on his face.

"What is it?"

"I was supposed to visit my mom with my dad when I got out of school today! Dammit, he is probably freaking out!" And sure enough, when she checked her phone, she had eight new messages.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know –"

"Gabe, don't worry, it's not your fault. Hey, I gotta run, but maybe we can work on this after school tomorrow as well?"

"I'd like that."

"Great! I'll see you later."

His eyes followed her as she ran down the hallway.

* * *

She knew the minute she closed the door, the hell storm of fatherly fury was going to be unleashed.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Dad, I got sidetracked – "

"So sidetracked that you forgot that you were visiting your own mother!?"

"I say I was fucking sorry! I was working on a project with Gabe and we lost track of time!"

"Who is Gabe?"

"Just some kid! Now are we still going or not!?"

"Yes, if we can make it to the hospital before visiting hours end. Grab your stuff."

He slammed the door closed and she could hear the angry crunch of gravel under his boots. She slammed her fists on the countertop and let out a frustrated scream. This day couldn't possibly get any worse.

"So who is this Gabe?"

* * *

A/N: OH NO, jealous Tate out to play? Reviews make my day.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Y'all are so amazingly sweet to me. And my internet cookie for you is my most favorite video of Tate and Violet of all time! When I watch it, I get so inspired, so mad shout out to hurleybirdprod for being awesome! But seriously, watch it. It's the normal Youtube URL followed by: /watch?v=uBp4NpSdkX0

_**May The Devil Come**_

"So who is this Gabe?"

There was no joking, playful lilt that she had grown so used to when they would talk in her room. There was no husky undercurrent that she would always feel when he would tease her. His tone was cold as ice and sharp like hooks, but for some reason she knew it sounded familiar. And with a shock, she realized why – it was the same tone he had used before he shot the robbers.

Oh, shit.

She quickly turned around and met his eyes. They were both dead and horribly, achingly alive with emotion – betrayal, jealousy, anger. She suddenly knew at that exact moment that if he ever met Gabe, he would kill him.

No hesitation. No remorse.

Her head fell back a little and her mouth opened slightly before she approached him cautiously.

"Who is he?"

Such a seemingly innocent question, but she knew that there was so much more behind it.

"Tate, he's no one."

"I have a hard time believing that."

She put her hand against his cheek, but he gave no response beside stare down into her eyes, like he was just daring, taunting her to lie to him to unleash what he is truly capable of.

"Tate…"

A loud, obnoxious honk interrupted them and she threw a quick look towards the back door.

"I have to go see my mom."

His silence unnerved her more than any answer he could have given her.

"We'll finish this when I get home."

"Yes, we will."

His voice was like freezing cold water that unexpectedly dripped down her spine, shooting surprised tremors through her muscles. He just turned and went back the stairs while she followed him with forlorn eyes.

The last thing she remembered when she walked to the car was the outline of Tate's face, jaw set and lips pressed into a razor thin line, in her window.

* * *

She's mine.

Only mine.

* * *

She hated these hallways.

The hospital looked even more dreary and gloomy than before, especially in the murky dusk that was settling over the city. However, maybe she thought that because she knew that she was going to have a very unpleasant conversation with Tate when she got home and she had no idea how she was going to calm him down.

She had to tell him the truth. Lying about this would only make it worse, that was for sure.

She had to make him see that nothing else was going on between Gabe and her. For God's sake, they just met this afternoon! They are just partners for a project, nothing more.

"Violet, we're here."

She was so lost in her thoughts that she accidentally walked into her father, who had paused outside her mother's door.

"God, I hate this."

"I know, honey." All the anger that he had at her earlier – which was a lot, judging by the silent and tense car ride with them wordlessly fighting over which radio station to listen to – seemed to drain out of him. He was just tired, a man bent over by problems and worries no person should ever have to deal with, and seeing her father so defeated, so deflated, scared her. Because as much as she hated his flaws, hated that he pretended that nothing was wrong, that they were anything except just the smashed remains of a family struggling to pull it together, seeing her father look so hopeless and helpless made her want to cry. Because losing him meant that she had finally lost the last, true strong anchor to normalcy – and that meant she would be drifting alone and afraid into the sea of the dangerous unknown.

"But we need to stay together and be strong for your mom."

"I know."

He reached down and squeezed her hand reassuringly before opening the door.

* * *

"After consulting with my colleagues, I have decided to put Vivien on a new pill in the hopes of further increasing dopamine release, which, God willing, will help her begin to recovery from her depression. Unfortunately, she still is refusing to engage in almost any conversation with me or the nurses despite our efforts. If you want, I can show you the logs we have been keeping of her progress. Because of your background as a therapist and your closeness to your wife, maybe you can provide me with additional insight."

"Thank you, doctor, I would be more than happy to assist you. Violet?"

Her mom was still sitting in the same chair she always did and as usual, she had only said a meek hello back to them when they greeted her before lapsing back in silence. Violet wondered where her mind went. What places did she go, what people did she meet? Was it better or worse than here, in reality, where her husband and daughter were? She didn't want to believe that it was better wherever she went because then she may never come back.

The sound of her name pulled her out of her reverie.

"Yeah?"

"I am going to go talk with the doctor some more. I'll only be a minute."

"Okay."

The door shut quietly behind the two of them and she could hear them talking in hushed voices outside the door. She couldn't make out what they said, but she didn't understand how they could boil down her mother's crippling sadness into nonsensical-sounding chemical compounds and little white pills with letters on them. How could they reduce something that looks and feels so complex?

She was so wrapped up in these thoughts that she almost didn't hear it at first. Almost.

"Be careful."

But she did. She whipped around so fast her chair gave a groan of protest. She couldn't help but gawk at her mother, mouth agape.

"Mom, did you just –?"

"Be careful, Violet."

She leaped out of her chair and grabbed her mom's hands, her pleading eyes gazing up at her mom's suddenly bright, lucid ones.

"Of what, mom?"

But she was losing her. Her eyes were rapidly becoming vacant again.

No! NO!

She shook her mother rapidly, grimly aware of how fragile she felt but ignoring it because this is too important.

"Mom? Mom?!"

But she was gone. Violet slammed her hand into the flimsy table, causing it to wobble dangerously, before sagging back in her chair and hanging her head in her hands.

Did she know about Tate? She couldn't. There was no way. Was there?

"Violet? Everything okay?"

She looked up to see her dad's head poking in and taking a quick survey of the room before focusing on her. She gulped, fidgeting with her cardigan, hoping that her father did not just hear what happened because quite frankly, she didn't need him asking questions when she herself didn't understand.

"Yeah, Dad, everything's fine. What did the doctor say?"

"Don't worry about it. We just discussed your mother's medication schedule. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

She stood up and she couldn't stop her legs from trembling. Thank God she wore a floor length skirt today.

"Bye, mom." She planted a small kiss on her mother's dull hair, praying to whatever higher power that may or may not exist that she would say something, anything, to clarify what she meant.

But she said nothing.

* * *

She ran for the stairs as soon as she got in the door.

"Hey, Dad, I'm not really hungry right now."

"Okay, there are leftovers in the fridge for you when you want. I'm going out for a minute. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good."

She was climbing the stairs two by two when her father's voice stopped her.

"Are you alright?"

She paused, glancing over her shoulder to see her dad's sad eyes.

"I'm alright, just tired."

Her dad gave her a look that belied that he was not convinced, but after a moment of hesitation, he turned towards the door.

"Okay. Maybe go to bed early, yeah?"

She turned her vision forward again because she wasn't sure if she could hide the fact that she was holding back so many lies from him right now.

"Yeah."

She heard the door close behind her and she raced up to her room, wondering what she would find.

* * *

She yanked open the door to see him sitting on her bed. He won't look at her, choosing to inspect his fingernails instead.

"Who is he?"

She couldn't help but scoff – no preamble or beating around the bush with him.

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice made it clear that he didn't.

"No, I – "

"You think this is funny?"

He rocketed off the bed and strode towards her purposefully. He gripped her face tightly with his hand. His eyes were like black holes, swirling with jealousy.

"No – "

"You're mine!"

For the first time in a while, she was actually afraid of him. The sweet, kind, if somewhat perverted Tate that she had grown to care for – she refused to think of any words beginning in 'l' – was gone and in its place was a beast howling with rage and envy. She started to fight, wiggling her chin to try to escape his grip and putting her hands on his chest to try to push him away.

"Let go of me!"

Her protest seemed to snap him back into himself. His eyes suddenly lost their ferocity and the look he gave her – like he knew she would never let him near her again – as he stumbled back from her shove was heartbreaking. The one he gave her after she slapped him was even worse.

And then she just lost it.

"Would you fucking listen to me?! He means nothing! He is my partner for a project for a class! We were working on it this afternoon. That's it! There is NOTHING going on between us!"

She grabbed her hair and pulled on it, hoping the pain would detract from her anger.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Yes, just – "

"What?!"

"It kills me that I can't do everything I want to for you."

It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out and she couldn't breathe. She felt like she was trying to breathe in a vacuum, flailing madly in a bid for life and feeling the pressure crush her lungs and, apparently, her heart as well.

"What does that mean?"

He laces his arms around her waist and she lets him, but she refuses to look at him, trying to hold onto her anger so he knows she won't tolerate bullshit like this.

"I can't take you out to the movies. I can't treat you to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. I can't take you for long walks on the beach. I can't do this – "

And he kissed her full on the lips. As mad as she was, she couldn't help but melt into him, basking in his taste and scent. It felt like coming home and watching fireworks – anticipation building until it explodes into comfort, excitement, and contentment. She felt like he was made for her and she made for him.

He cracked a smile at her flabbergasted face when he pulled away.

"It kills me that I have to hide. It kills me that you might find someone else like this Gabe – " he spat out his name like a curse – "who can offer everything I can't and decide that you want him instead."

She caressed his cheek and he let out a low moan of pure longing.

"I want you to be mine so much. I don't think I could bear it if you chose someone else."

"I don't want anyone else."

* * *

A/N: Jealous enough for you? Don't worry, more jealous Tate will rear his lovely blond head soon when Gabe tries to get too close. OOPS, did I just write that? Reviews make me happy.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Wow, guys! You're so great!

_**May The Devil Come**_

"I don't want anyone else."

He looked at her like he couldn't believe what she just said but at the same time, praying and hoping that he heard her right, that he wasn't dreaming, that this was incontrovertibly real.

"Really?"

She nodded, licking her lips, which were suddenly bone dry, before replying.

"It feels like I suddenly became yours when I wasn't looking."

She looked down at her toes, wishing that she could put everything she felt into words but she couldn't help chuckling at herself because how she felt – how much she felt in such a short time – was absurd.

"I'm not explaining this right."

He puts a finger on her lips and his touch is feather light, so full of warmth and caring, so opposite to how it can be when he has rage in his eyes.

"You don't have to."

She takes his hand and places it on her cheek, nuzzling into it and savoring the feeling of security and strength it evoked.

"It all happened so fast. I mean, we barely know each other, and yet I feel as if I was meant for you and you were meant for me. Like, even if I tried to be with someone else, I couldn't. I can't even picture myself with anyone else."

His thumb was stroking her cheekbone languidly and her eyes fluttered.

"I knew you were mine the moment I saw you."

Her eyes snapped back open with surprise.

"What?"

"When you held my gaze, I knew you were the one. No one ever challenged me like that."

She was sure that her heart was going to explode from beating so fast.

"I broke out of the hospital for you. I would stop for nothing until I saw you again. I was prepared to hunt down every street, every alleyway to find you because you were mine and I was irrevocably yours. I was yours when you smirked back at me. You weren't afraid of me. You're still here, despite knowing what I am, what I am capable of."

"I think…"

But his butterfly kisses on her neck were distracting her and she tapered off, content to bask in his presence. She could feel his smile pressing against her sensitive skin and she knew that he loved that he could kiss her into a bubbling mess of hormones so easily.

"Don't think, just feel."

She could feel his hands slide down her body, grazing the sides of her breasts – delaying there a little longer than he planned when she let out a low moan to his immense satisfaction –before coming to rest on her ass. She gave a slight yelp when he grabbed her bottom hard and he chuckled before he lapsed back into the sensual seducer that she knows he is an expert at being.

"What is it, Violet? Tell me."

His voice was so husky and full of promise that she almost couldn't take it.

"I think – "

But her response was cut off by the door creaking open and her father's silhouette stepping in.

* * *

She knew he moved fast, but she didn't know just how fast until in the second it took for her father to fully enter the room, he had unlocked his arms from her waist, dived under the bed, and stilled the bedskirt's swishing. No one would ever guess that a boy, much less a mentally disturbed one, had just been kissing her neck and she was moments away from confessing that she might be in love with him.

If adrenaline production was an Olympic sport, she knows she would have gotten gold.

"Hey, Vi…?"

Stay calm, breathe, don't look guilty, don't look guilty –

"Geez, Dad, way to give me a coronary."

"Sorry, I should have knocked, especially with you still spooked by the whole robber thing. I just wanted to know if you want any tea? I'm boiling a pot of water."

"I'm alright, Dad."

If alright means I'm still reeling from your almost-discovery of a crazy boy in my room getting farther with me than any other boy has ever gotten and trying to sort through every emotion from excitement to absolute terror.

"You sure? It's been a long day and you must be tired."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Well, then, alright."

He walked back to the door, pausing once he placed his hand on the doorknob.

"I love you."

She feels so sad, so guilty about lying to him, so angry that she can't change their laughable versions of lives.

"Love you too."

The door closed with an almost inaudible click and she wonders if that door closing was symbolic of something bigger, as if it was the point of no return and now, since that door is shut, she has no choice but to continue down the path she has chosen. She just hopes that that path will always include Tate.

She let out a long breath of relief as he popped back out from under the bed. She still felt too shaky and plopped ungracefully on her comforter, hugging her knees to her chest. She could feel him sit down next to her and when she looked up at him, she could see the concern radiating out of his deep brown irises.

"That was close. Too close."

"You're right, but it's okay. We weren't caught."

He starts rubbing her back like her mom would do when she was upset or crying or too afraid to go back to sleep because of nightmares and that memory combined with the stress of everything – her mom sick, her dad so tired and worried, and most of all, the very real possibility that she could lose him forever – makes the tears spill forward.

"But we could have and he would have sent you back…"

She could feel the salty tears running down her face and his hands – his strong, deadly, but loving hands – brush them away.

"And if that happened, I wouldn't ever see you again and that frightens me. No, it terrifies me! You say I'm not afraid, but I am, Tate! I am afraid of so much and I can't lose you like I lost my mother. I just can't."

When he talks next, the combination of passion, tender care, and determination made her heart stutter.

"You will never lose me. No matter what happens, I will always find you. I will always come back for you."

* * *

"The octet rule states that when an atom has eight valence electrons, it is stable. Can anyone tell me what the measure of an atom's affinity for gaining electrons is called?"

Violet felt like she had been stuck in school for centuries. After he calmed her down and her tears finally stopped, they decided to just go to bed, him spooning around her like a warm, protective blanket. He didn't say anything to her as he curled up next her and quite frankly, she didn't give a shit that he was supposed to be sleeping on the floor. She didn't care that all her Bible school from when she was a kid – which she was forced to go to every Sunday – taught her that being so close to each other would invite temptation and sin. If he was sin – which he was, she had no doubt – she would gladly go to hell.

When she asked her dad to drive her to school today, he did so without asking. He must have seen her exhaustion and as mad as she was because she hates asking for help, it was nice to have someone silently acknowledge that she needed it, just for today.

"Hey, you do know the bell rang?"

Gabe is smiling down at her and she blushes in embarrassment when she realizes that everyone, even the teacher, had left.

"Oh, yeah, I was just spacing out."

"Don't worry, electronegativity doesn't really get me super excited either."

She gave a weak laugh as she packed up her bag.

"So are you up to working on the project today?"

No, she wasn't. All she wanted to do was get home and have Tate kiss her until all her pain and stress melted away.

"Sure, I wanna get this thing done."

* * *

"Okay, well, I think everything looks pretty good. We just need to do some editing and add some final touches. We can do all of that later."

"Great."

She knew he could tell that she wasn't all there, but he didn't say anything, for which she was very grateful. She knew he could tell that she wasn't up for sharing and what could she say, anyway? 'My mom is basically comatose and I'm falling for a murderer.' He would be shipping her off to the loony bin, too.

"Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

She got out her cell phone to call her dad and after punching in the numbers, she looked up to see Gabe still looking down at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

"Did you not drive today?"

"No, I wasn't feeling well, so my dad dropped me off."

"I could give you a ride home."

She knew it wasn't a good idea. Tate would flip the fuck out and she didn't have the energy to calm him down and protect Gabe from getting brutally, painfully dismembered at the same time.

"It's fine. My dad works at home, so he won't be long."

"Okay, only if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

She was so engrossed in her thoughts about Tate that she didn't see Gabe watching her as she walked away.

* * *

A/N: OH BOY, Gabe is sticking around. Reviews made me smile!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Never mind that it's after midnight, the muse has struck and I am compelled to answer. Also, I'm not sure if this thought occurred to you all, but I'm trying to make this story a mix of canon from Season 1 (like Tate being nuts, Vivien in the hospital), details from Season 2 (Insane Asylum, hello!), and my own twist. Another internet cookie: a fantastic fanmade trailer for Season 2 by hurleybirdprod. I thought it was real at first, it's that good. Normal YouTube URL followed by: /watch?v=6gY0_Tgemo8

_**May The Devil Come**_

The next few days were all a blur of Tate – Tate grinning when she retreated to her room after dinner, cracking jokes just to make her crack a smile, trailing kisses along her clavicle, and not so subtly running his hands over her body late at night, making her squirm and shake with forbidden pleasure. She barely focused on school or anything else, and she was glad for the distraction, though she could hardly quantify him as a mere distraction from her otherwise depressing daily life. If anything, that life was the unwelcome and unwanted distraction from her happy life with Tate.

"Violet?"

Gabe's soft voice broke her out of her thoughts once again – he must be tired of doing that – and she looked at him apologetically.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just…there's a lot of stuff going on."

"Wanna talk about it? That usually helps."

She can't and she doesn't want to ruin or disrespect her idyllic fantasy of her and Tate by sharing it with anyone because it is sacred, hers alone. Also, not to mention the fact that if she talks about him, she is endangering his own life and his continued presence in hers and nothing will make her risk that.

"It's complicated."

"I see."

She knows he is curious, but he doesn't pry.

"So when do you want to meet up to finish the project?"

"Whenever, I don't care."

"Well, how about Saturday? I have practice and a family get-together tomorrow afternoon, so I can't do then and the project is due Monday."

Saturday? Her ears perk up because really, who meets on a Saturday to do homework? But she can't seem to peg Gabe as someone who has ulterior motives – for one, he's too nice and in her opinion, is not nearly as smooth as he would have to be. But what about Tate? He won't like it, but she doesn't really have a choice if Gabe has prior commitments.

"Alright."

"Great! I'll pick you up around 10 or so. I figured we can have breakfast at this cool little place near my house and hash out the final details after."

Her sense of wariness grows, but she bites her lip because maybe she is just being paranoid. Like she had ruminated before, he is probably just being nice since he is making her meet him at an inconvenient time.

"Okay. Here's my address and number in case you need to reach me."

He looked at the slip of paper and let out a low whistle of disbelief and surprise.

"What?"

"You live in Murder House. That's intense."

"What are you talking about?"

"Murder House. The locals all know about it. Apparently some weird shit has gone down there – lots of murders, obviously. Evidence has been suspiciously scarce and the police keep their lips zipped on any information, but it has attracted attention regardless. Lots of people say it's cursed or worse, haunted."

"Lucky for you I don't believe in ghosts."

His grin was a bit savage, a bit like Tate's, and it unnerved her.

"I never thought you would."

"So I'll see you Saturday."

"Yeah, catch you 'round."

She watched him leave and she couldn't seem to get rid of the bad taste in her mouth.

* * *

"Honey, I'm home."

"Isn't the guy supposed to say that?"

She dropped her bag on the floor before running into his arms. She sighed, content to be relaxing in what is rapidly exclusively becoming the only place she feels truly safe. He can sense something is off in the way she holds onto him for longer than usual, but he is loathe to complain because he loves the feel of her warmth on his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"How do you know everything?"

He shrugged.

"I'm pretty good at reading people. You're tense. What's up?"

"It's Gabe."

It's an instant change and she can see the rage rise up to the surface, his eyes go cold, and his hands instinctively flex into fists that could easily pummel Gabe's face into an amorphous pile of goo.

"Stop, it's just that we have to meet up on Saturday because he can't do Friday. He is picking me up and we're going to finish the project over breakfast."

He grits his teeth and to say he isn't pleased would be a massive understatement. Furious would come closer.

"Violet, that's a date. He likes you."

"No, it's not, I promise. Look, I already told you that there is nothing between me and him."

He won't make eye contact with her, so she forces his head towards hers.

"You are the one for me. I'm yours. Nothing will happen. I just wanted to let you know because I refuse to keep secrets from you."

"I don't like this."

"I didn't expect you to. But it is what it is and I can't change it. Believe me, I would much rather lie in bed with you all day."

He perks up in a smile and she knows she's placated him, for now.

"I will hold you to that."

She kisses him on the lips, hoping that he can tell that she wants more, that she'll always want more with him because it's impossible for her to imagine "more" with anyone else but him.

"Fuck homework, let's just go to bed now."

"I like this plan."

He spends the rest of the night making her whimper in just the right way.

* * *

She has been up for a half hour before she sees Gabe's truck roll into her driveway. She shrugs on her cardigan and grabs her bag, keys jangling in her hand as she heads towards the door.

"Where are you off to? No coffee this morning?"

"Sorry, Dad I'm meeting up with my partner for a science class project. We're getting breakfast."

He raises his eyebrows skeptically.

"Just to work on the project?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He says it with that tone that he thinks that having breakfast to work on a project is bullshit, but the knock on the front door makes her bite back her scathing reply.

"Bye, Dad, see you later."

"Bye, Vi."

She opens the door and Gabe offers to take her bag, which she gladly forks over.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

As they drove away, she could see Tate watching them from the window.

* * *

She orders pancakes and he orders eggs and bacon.

"Man, that smells delicious."

"Yeah, I love this place. They have amazing food."

They eat in silence and she notices that he has been looking at her with side glances that linger a little too long for her taste.

"Alright, so what do we have left to do?"

* * *

"And I think we're all done."

"Awesome."

She packs up her stuff, he graciously pays the bill, and they walk back to his truck. After she slides in, he starts up the truck and takes her home. They talk about music – she is horrified at his taste and resolves to burn him a few CD's to properly educate him – and their favorite places – hers is the beach and his is the nearby skateboard park where he works on the weekends. She's laughing at one of his stories – he is regaling her about the time where he fell down a flight of stairs while trying to do a trick – when she notices they have pulled back into her driveway.

She gives one last chuckle before putting her hand on the handle.

"Thanks for breakfast and for driving me. That was really nice of you."

"It was the least I could do for a beautiful girl like you."

She blushes at his comment because now the air in the truck is awkward and stifling and she has a feeling that Tate was right, which was confirmed by Gabe's lips zooming towards hers. She turns her head away so he barely grazes her cheek and looks at him with disbelief.

"What are you doing?"

He looks at her, confused. "I thought – "

"What, that because you bought me pancakes that you could kiss me?!"

"I thought you liked me! Come on, Violet, you went out to breakfast with me. A girl doesn't do that if she's not interested."

"What?!"

"You can't deny that we have chemistry. We talk, we laugh, we always have a good time together. I really like you because you're different. You're not like the other stupid girls here – you're naturally pretty, smart, funny, and strong. And I thought you felt the same about me."

She is stunned in speechlessness as his face falls.

"There's someone else, isn't there?"

Her silence gives him her answer.

"I can be everything you need, Violet. Just give me a chance. I'll show you how much better I am. I can give everything you deserve."

"I can't. I'm sorry, Gabe, but…I'm in love with someone else. You're a good friend, but that's it."

His face turns angry and she knows that this was not the scenario that he had envisioned when he picked her up this morning. She decides against giving him a hug before pushing open the car door because she needs to make sure what she says sticks. She knows her rejection hurt, but he needs to accept it and to do that as fast as possible, the less physical contact, the better.

"I'm sorry, Gabe."

He doesn't respond and she feels her heart sink as she realizes that she might have lost her only friend at Westfield.

"I'll turn in the final project on Monday."

"Fine."

"See you Monday?"

"Yeah, whatever."

But before he steps on the gas, he gives her a calculated look and she can't help but shudder.

"I'm not giving up."

He peels out of the driveway and it's with a heavy heart when she climbs the stairs back to her room.

* * *

"How did it go?"

"Fine, I guess."

He can tell from her dejected demeanor that something is eating her.

"Violet. What is it?"

"He tried to kiss me."

"Excuse me?"

His voice turned deadly and she shivered because she just knew he was going to fly off the handle when she told him, but she also knew that keeping it from him would almost guarantee Gabe's death.

"He tried to kiss me because he likes me and thought I liked him back. I told him flat out that I wasn't interested and he didn't take the rejection well."

"Did he hurt you? Threaten you?"

"He said he wasn't giving up."

A literal growl clawed its way out of Tate's throat and she could tell that he was barely keeping his enormous amount of rage in check.

"Tate, I can handle him. Let's not let it ruin our Saturday, please?"

He calmed down a little, but she could tell that the thought of Gabe trying to kiss her was going to torment him.

"Tate, I'm yours. I'll always be."

His hands laced behind her lower back and he pressed her close to him so his next words slipped in her ear, both quiet yet filled with conviction.

"You're mine." She thinks he said it more for himself than for her.

"Yes."

She pulled her head back and looked up into his eyes.

"Kiss me."

He swooped down to capture her mouth just like he had captured her heart and they spent the rest of the day tangled on her bed, their sweat and moans mingling together until the sun glowed red through her window.

* * *

He needs to be taught a lesson.

* * *

A/N: Jealous Tate is back! WOOO! Reviews make me smile!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: On we go.

_**May The Devil Come**_

He waited until her breaths came in long, deep intervals before he slipped out of her bed. He knew that she would be royally pissed if she knew what he was planning – because she had it under control – but he couldn't let it go.

Gabe.

Even saying it in his mind made him grimace with anger.

He knew that she could handle it, of that he had no doubt because she didn't take shit from anybody and had absolutely no problem putting people in their place. She would never want to be the damsel in distress, waiting for her psychopath in shining white armor to save her from boys who don't know to stay away. But boys who overstep their boundaries need to be punished.

He ruffled silently through her father's desk until he found the school's directory. Only one student had the first name Gabe and he just so happened to live five streets down.

He smirked.

Bingo.

* * *

The walk to his house was deceptively quiet. No one was on the streets since it was so late and if anyone was, they would just assume he was a rebellious teenager staying out on a school night smoking pot rather than studying.

Once he got to his destination, he surveyed the house – pretty typical, nothing special save for the relatively eclectic garden ornaments littering the flowerbeds in front of the house. Checking to make sure no cars or dogs were around, he sneaked to the right side of the house where through the upper left window he could slightly see tour posters from bands he knew were mainstream shit along with the token bikini girl splayed out on fake sand.

So that's his room.

He was lucky the boy hadn't bothered to close the window.

And as if it was built just for him, a trellis of vines reached right to the sill.

* * *

"What're you dreaming about?"

"Shit!"

The boy bolted up in surprise and the amount of fear Tate could feel radiating off him was delicious.

"Pretty sure I know. I'd dream about her too if I could dream. I don't think I do anymore."

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Someone you should be very, very afraid of, Gabe."

The boy's eyes grew even wider when he realized that this intruder knew his name. He made a sudden leap off the bed, presumably for the door, but Tate was too fast.

The blade of the knife was cool against his throat.

"I wouldn't think about doing that if I were you."

"What do you want?" Each word was punctuated with adrenaline and sheer terror, spat out through gritted teeth, and Tate reveled in it.

"I want you to leave her alone."

"Who?"

Tate pressed the knife into his neck until a small trickle of blood had run down and stained his white tee shirt.

"You know exactly who."

"You mean…?"

"Yes."

The boy didn't answer right away and Tate wondered if he was overwhelmed with fear to the point that he couldn't speak. He smiled at the thought.

"What if I don't?"

He growled like a rabid animal because that was not the answer he was expecting, but then he gave a harsh chuckle that conveyed anything but amusement at Gabe's new found bravery.

"I have to admit, you have some balls to say that when I can easily slit your throat at the drop of a hat."

He made another cut further down on Gabe's neck, making the other boy hiss in pain.

"But I am going to make this very clear. She is mine. If you don't leave her alone, I will take my sweet time killing you and make absolutely sure your family will never find your body. She is the only reason I'm not going to kill you now because for some reason, she likes you and your death would upset her."

The boy tried to struggle, but Tate's arm tightened around his windpipe even more and he gave a short wheeze.

"But make no mistake. If you continue your sad little pursuit of her, if you ever mention this to anyone, I will find you and I will kill you. I will make it hurt so bad you'll be begging for death."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

This kid must have a death wish, one that Tate was rapidly becoming keener to oblige.

"Because I've done it before."

That little sentence seemed to have finally clued him in that – in the words of Violet's dumb peers at school would probably have used – shit just got real. Tate preferred the phrase "he wasn't fucking around." He could feel the fight leave Gabe's body, which slumped a little onto his with the air of defeat.

Tate released him and he stumbled forward, coughing at the sudden rush of oxygen sweeping into his lungs. He turned to look at him and Tate felt the satisfaction when he saw the boy's earlier bravado slip back into fear when he twirled the knife in his fingers like a natural, like it belonged in his hands. Tate knew that this kid realized that he had killed before and worse, enjoyed it, reveled in it. He knew that this kid realized how close his earlier boldness almost got him killed. He smiled, his white teeth visible in the darkness.

"Not a word. Are we clear?"

Gabe gave a small shaky nod of his head.

"Good."

And before Gabe could move, Tate was gone.

But as he climbed back into bed, knowing he wasn't going to get any more sleep in a while, he thought he heard "Twisted Nerve" being whistled down the street.

* * *

He was washing the small splatter of blood off his hands when Violet came stumbling bleary-eyed into the bathroom. It took her a second to realize that he was there – he thought it was so cute how she went about her business, even haphazardly stripping off her pajamas, before she noticed he was watching her.

"Wait…what are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. And now enjoying the view."

Only then did Violet realize she was stark naked and she blushed furiously, yanking a towel off its hanger and throwing it around herself. She had been naked around him before – all those late nights when he taught her how good he could make her feel – but the lights had always been off or very dim. Under the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent light of the bathroom, she had panicked because then he could really see her and as much as Violet truly didn't give a shit about makeup and appearances, she was suddenly afraid that he wouldn't like what he saw.

He chuckled as he approached her and stroked her face.

"Don't be embarrassed."

"Of course I am! I look terrible in the morning."

"That's not possible. You always look beautiful."

"You aren't just saying that?"

"No. I always say what I mean. You're perfect."

His conviction surprised her and she couldn't help but smile.

"You're not half bad yourself. Now get out so I can shower."

He gave a huff of disappointment before reaching down to kiss her.

"We could always shower together."

As tempting as the idea was, she could hear the coffee pot rumbling downstairs and she knew her father was up and about. If finding a mental patient stowed away in her room would be bad, finding him naked in the shower with her would be exponentially worse.

"As much as I would love to, my dad's up and the last thing we need is for him to wonder why I'm moaning and giggling to myself in the shower at the crack of dawn."

"I think it would be more like screaming myself."

She slapped him playfully on the arm. That rascal!

"Now get out and behave."

"I always do."

He slipped out the door after another quick peck on the cheek. She shook her head at his shenanigans, but she couldn't help smiling to herself.

She was so busy getting ready that she didn't see the bloody tissue carefully concealed in the trashcan.

* * *

"I'll be collecting your projects now."

Violet rummaged around in her bag and produced it just as the teacher passed her desk, giving it to his outstretched hand. She was very relieved that it was over and it would make avoiding Gabe a hell of a lot easier. She didn't want to avoid him forever – she did genuinely like him as a friend even if his taste in music was atrocious – but for right now, she thought staying away from him would be best so he could get over his romantic feelings, lick his wounds without her being right there all the time.

When she turned around, he made eye contact with her very briefly before turning away to look at his sneakers. She could understand if he didn't want to talk, but for some reason, his turn away was too jittery and his eyes shone too much. Like he was afraid of her rather than trying to get over her.

She turned forward again and slumped in her chair. Something was off, she could feel it, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Thank you for turning your projects in on time. I am hoping to have them graded by the end of the week. For homework, I want you all to do problems 16-27 in the chapter review, to be handed in tomorrow."

She heard the collective groan from the class, but her teacher continued on as if nothing had happened.

"If you have any questions about the project or the problems, I will be in school until 5 PM today, so don't hesitate to come find me. Class dismissed."

The bell rang and Violet stood up, grabbing her stuff and watching Gabe throw a terrified glance at her before literally running out of the classroom. She frowned.

Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

A/N: Jealous Tate kicked some ass, wouldn't you agree? Reviews make me really happy.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Internet cookie for you (I adore this one because I really do love Marilyn Manson and his song is perfect with the video)! An awesome fanmade trailer for Season 1 by darkhpfan411 – normal Youtube link followed by: /watch?v=63TLDsnYYlU

_**May The Devil Come**_

She followed Gabe outside to the parking lot, calling out his name. She knows he heard her even though he refused to turn around and acknowledge her – the tension of his shoulders and neck belied his efforts to look oblivious.

"Gabe! Gabe!" If anything he sped up, hunching over and grabbing the strap of his bag so hard she thought he'd rip the fabric.

She sighed angrily to herself before hoisting her bag higher.

For the fucking love of God, she did not have time for this today.

She sped up, nearly running across the lot, dodging cars and students who just had to walk at extremely aggravatingly slow paces. Thanking her horrid gym teacher for making them do so many sprints last year that her leg muscles could still do a pretty decent split when need be, she tore through the last hundred yards and slammed her hand on the open car door before Gabe could yank it shut.

"Now, look, I know you're way pissed at me, but Jesus fucking Christ, I didn't think you'd be so goddamn juvenile!"

While she tries to regain her breath, she sees him do a quick nervous once-over of the parking lot before settling his gaze on her.

"You'd think I was a homicidal maniac the way you avoid me."

She did not miss the way he jumped when she said that. Suddenly pieces started falling into place. He couldn't…He wouldn't have…

"Gabe…"

Her voice was stern and controlled in a way her mind was most certainly not.

"Tell me what happened."

He hesitated, but her look coupled with her voice made it abundantly clear that he was not going to get away without answering her.

"I don't know who he is, but some guy climbed into my room and threatened me last night. Told me I had to stay away from you and keep my mouth shut or else he would kill me. And I think he meant it." He took a shuttering breath to try to calm himself down.

"I know he meant it."

Violet's veins felt like they were filled with ice. She didn't know what to do, what to think, what to say. She felt frozen, paralyzed – she couldn't get enough air, but at the same time she felt like she was drowning.

"Violet, do you know him? Is this the person you mentioned?"

Yes. Yes. She knew him and let him know her in many ways – long conversations about birds and music, heated gazes over games of cards and Monopoly, eager hands on her most intimate parts. And yes, she was in love with him, so in love she could almost hear her mom's echoing words when she asked her a long time ago about how she knew her dad was the one.

"When you fall in love, it's like you go crazy and you do everything you can for the other person."

But it didn't mean she couldn't be absolutely furious with him because she was. Oh, she was. Her hands curled into fists and she could feel her nails digging into her palms; she grabbed onto the pain to anchor her to reality, to the train wreck that was happening in front of her, because if she didn't play it just right, she could lose him. Forever.

"No." She could only hope to God that she sounded convincing.

"Violet."

He grabbed her hands earnestly, uncurling her hands and she couldn't help feeling his worry through his grasp.

"I know I screwed up and I'm sorry. But this is serious. He is obsessed with you, probably even stalks you. You need to go to the police."

The mention of the police made the fear she felt before seem insignificant, like it was a single drop in a bucket, one blade of grass in a meadow, one grain of sand on a beach. Now her fear was so immense she felt like it could fill the entire sky.

"No. I don't want the police involved."

"Violet, listen to yourself! You could be in grave danger!"

"And what do you expect me to do, Gabe? Tell the police that some guy – a guy that we don't have a physical description of – might be stalking me? They'll laugh in my face."

"If you won't go, I will."

* * *

She had no idea how she was able to drive home without totaling her car; her hands were so shaky her dad would probably think she was on a caffeine overload. Before she left, she extracted a very reluctant promise from Gabe to not go to the police as long as she told him if she saw anyone suspicious. She knew he wasn't happy, but hopefully her pleading would make him keep quiet. For both their sakes, and even if he didn't know it, for Tate's as well.

While she waited at a red light, she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and sighed.

"I'm going to fucking pummel him when I get home."

* * *

She slammed the car into park and stomped up the driveway. Her father wasn't home – she figured he was probably running some errands or visiting her mother. At least she caught this small break, so she wouldn't have to worry him overhearing the huge fight that was about to erupt in her bedroom.

She ran up the stairs and threw open her door. He turned around, his face lit up in excitement to see her, but upon seeing her murderous expression, his own fell and he just knew that he had been busted.

"Violet – "

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!"

For such a small person, her yell sure packed a punch.

"Vi – "

"NO, DON'T 'VI' ME, TATE!"

She was pacing back and forth, barely restraining herself from rushing up to him and throttling him. She knew he could feel her anger coming off in waves, bubbling like lava from an exploding volcano.

"No, you don't get to talk. Are you fucking serious? Why would you DO that? I told you I had everything under control, but of course, do you fucking listen to me? NO. You had to go play my fucking psychopath knight in shining fucking armor and threaten to murder your rival. What is this, the goddamn Middle Ages? Are you going to duel for my honor next?"

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but one look from her silenced him.

"Fucking spare me your bullshit, Tate. You had NO right to do that. I understand that you were jealous, but that does not allow you to break into his home and threaten him! Now he thinks I'm being watched by some obsessive stalker and told me that he was going to go to the police!"

At least he had the decency to turn a shade of green when she said that.

"You're fucking lucky I convinced him not to, but now he is paranoid and suspicious and that is the last fucking thing I need. Jesus, Tate!"

She collapsed on the bed next to him. He could tell that her anger was beginning to ebb, but he could also tell that worry and anxiety would soon replace it.

"I am so mad at you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Are you? Or are you just sorry that you didn't kill him when you had the chance?"

He winced because that was exactly what he was thinking.

"Tate…"

She faced him and suddenly started pounding his chest with her fists, but it was only a halfhearted effort. He caught her wrists and held them close to him. That's when she started crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, and he pulled her to him, his hands soothingly rubbing her back and shoulders.

"Do you realize how this one reckless act of jealousy almost cost us everything? How it could come back to haunt us?"

She slightly pulled away to look at him.

"I'm mad that you threatened him. I'm mad that you ignored me. I'm mad that you jeopardized everything to satisfy some caveman territorial urge or whatever."

She ran her fingers through his hairs and tugged gently, making him let out a small grunt.

"But most of all, I'm mad because I am absolutely fucking terrified of losing you and I came so close to it today."

"Violet…"

"Don't talk. Just hold me and promise me you will never pull any bullshit like that ever again."

"Okay. I promise."

They lay back on the bed and watched the shadows grow bigger on the walls until they both fell asleep.

* * *

He woke up first. He loved when he woke up first because then he got to watch her sleep, which he knew sounded really creepy, but he couldn't help himself. She looked like an angel when she slept, so he couldn't help but be entranced.

He felt horrible. Not because he threatened Gabe's life – he would do that all over again – but because he scared her, because his actions made her feel like she was going to lose him. He hated when she hurt and he hated it most of all when the reason was him.

He whispered it really quietly even though her breathing proved she was still sleeping.

"I would never let anyone or anything hurt you."

* * *

A/N: What is Gabe going to do? Reviews make me smile.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: This is going to be a bit long for a note, but bear with me.

To my anonymous reviewer and Patty, the reason I don't do explicit sex scenes is because I'm uncomfortable writing them on a computer that I share with my parents. I have no reason to believe that they go through my stuff, but regardless I don't want that stuff there in case they do. Plus I don't want it on my laptop since it has my schoolwork and I will taking it around in public for presentations. As an aspiring grad school student, having erotica on an accessible laptop would not look good.

To my anonymous reviewer, Violet told Gabe that she didn't know his attacker because if she said she did, he definitely would have reported it to the police because he would have something concrete to back up his claim – he would have tried to wheedle information, forcing Violet to make up elaborate lies that would not have held up. If she said it was her boyfriend or ex, he would have reported a possible abusive or stalking situation. It would draw police attention to her straight away, never mind alerting her family as well, putting Tate in danger. Once her previous boyfriends – if she had any – checked out, he would know she's lying. Her denying abuse or stalking would only be more suspicious – many abuse victims unfortunately deny or play down their situation – and would have further convinced Gabe not to let it go. Since he is that concerned about her, he is not going to accept the "crazy ex" thing. He's smart; he would know she's hiding something. By saying "no," Gabe really has nothing to go to the police with and both of them know it.

Plus she already told him she was in love with someone; I think that strongly suggests she is not emotionally single to date him regardless of whether she is in a relationship. She and Tate told him to back the fuck off, so while he might ignore Tate's warning at his own peril, he respects Violet too much to force his unwanted attentions on her.

I hope you see my reasoning.

And I am so sorry for the delay, but I've had a long week of graduate school orientation that scared my little scientist pants off.

_**May The Devil Come**_

She saw Gabe again in the halls after second period and when she looked at him with the obvious question in her eyes, he stared back and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, so small that no one else could have possibly seen it even if they were looking for it. The breath she didn't know she was holding came out in a whoosh of relief.

He didn't tell.

Yet.

* * *

She rushed home from school, rolling through stop signs and speeding up at yellow lights instead of slowing down. She needed to see his face, the urge to make sure that he was still there, that he was still hers, locked up in her bedroom away from a world that doesn't understand him, growing stronger by the second. Her pessimist side couldn't stop torturing her with scenes of police cars and ambulances surrounding her house, ripping apart her room until they found him, and tugging him out of the front door in a straitjacket, his eyes frantically and desperately searching for her as she is fighting tooth and nail through the melee of officers, reporters, and nosy neighbors. Violet knew that the potent mix of loss and helplessness that she would undoubtedly feel at that moment – when his sad, helpless eyes would find hers in the crowd before he was roughly pushed into a police car – would undo her like her mother's miscarriage undid her.

The back screen door slammed loudly behind her as she threw her bag on the kitchen island. Her dad was at the stove cooking something and started at the sound of her bag full of books hitting the marble.

"Hey, honey. How was your day?"

Stressful as fuck. My life feels like it has a nice big ticking time bomb strapped on it between Tate doing something fucking stupid and Gabe ratting me out.

"Fine, if you count conjugating verbs and memorizing all the bones in the human body as your idea of a grand old time."

"Well, I know it feels pointless now –" he ignored Violet's rather loud, disbelieving scoff "– but it will all pay off in the end, you'll see."

"I don't do delayed gratification well."

He snorted. "Most people don't."

He continued stirring the pot on the stove top as she rooted around in the fridge for a snack.

"I visited your mom today."

She slowed down getting the mustard out of the fridge as she understood his words; she kicked the fridge door shut with a sigh and grabbed a plate from the cupboard above. Suddenly she felt so tired that just smacking the bottle to force the last bit of mustard out onto her cheese and baloney sandwich seemed to sap the final reserves of her energy.

"Yeah? How is she doing?"

"She asked about you."

What?

Oh no.

She froze, thanking God her back was to her dad so he couldn't see her sudden knuckle-white grip on the edge of the countertop and the icy fear in her eyes. She felt like she was going to hyperventilate and the looming hysteria felt like the air before a thunderstorm, ominous and tense and sinister.

Breathe Violet, slowly, that's it –

"She said to make sure you were okay. She told me to tell you to be careful."

That day came rushing back to her like a strong gust of wind punching her in the gut – her mother's eyes becoming lucid for that precious little time, her warning bearing so much meaning even if Violet was absolutely positive that she had no idea about Tate. How could she? She couldn't.

Could she?

Her breath was coming in short, quiet pants, her lungs screaming at her to get more oxygen and her chest tightening like it was being crushed by an invisible vice.

NO, she cannot freak out right now. Stop, Violet! You need to protect him and losing your shit in front of your dad just about seals his death certificate! Think of Tate, think of Tate –

"Does that mean anything to you, Violet?"

She jumped at his words like a spooked rabbit, earning her a concerned look from her father. She hastily put the mustard back into the fridge, hoping her dad couldn't see what she was sure was an immensely guilty look on her face.

"No. She probably just means that I should watch out for those stupid popular girls who have always had it out for me. Apparently wearing long skirts is a crime here."

She was never more thankful that she had gotten pretty good at lying through her teeth ever since she started smoking at thirteen. Years of convincing skeptical convenience store owners that she was legal paid off when she heard her father sigh and turn back to the stove, signaling his acceptance of her answer.

"You know that we could always move you to a different school if those girls bother you."

"They do more than just bother me, but I'm not running away. If I transfer, that means they won and I won't give them the satisfaction."

She found her dad looking at her in a peculiar way, which made her even more uneasy than she already was. Wait, did he figure out she was lying? Holy shit, holy shit –

"You never felt the need to be like anyone else. I admire that about you, my fierce little girl."

She smiled back at him when she realized he was still in the dark, but she couldn't help feeling guilty. She always kept secrets from her parents – what teenager didn't? – but she was sad that she couldn't tell her dad that she was in love with a boy. She was sad that she wouldn't be able to giggle when he would nonchalantly psychoanalyze him when he picked her up for the first time, leaving him squirming in his shoes as Violet tugged him out the front door. She was sad that her mom wasn't here to help her pick out the perfect date outfit and insist on putting some makeup on her. As different as she was from what people considered as "normal" teenage girls, she couldn't help wishing that she could have these small things that other girls took for granted.

She shook herself out of her mental slump and grabbed her bag, slinging it over one shoulder and picking up her sandwich with her other hand.

"Everyone always wants to be the same. I want to stand out."

"That you do. Dinner is vegetable soup. I'll save you a bowl so you can eat when you're hungry."

"Thanks, Dad."

She thought she heard a small sob as she went up the stairs.

* * *

"You're back."

She dropped her bag off in the corner and placed her sandwich near her computer, eying him with a playful smirk before pretending to examine the wood grain of her desk.

"No welcome home kiss for me?"

He threw the book he was reading to the side and bounded out of her bed, crossing the small distance between them quickly and sweeping her up his arms, ignoring her soft squeals as he gripped her ticklish sides.

"No 'I've missed you' kiss for me?"

"Who said I missed you today?"

"I'll make sure you will tomorrow."

He swooped down, igniting a kiss between them that was so ferociously hungry and passionate Violet felt dizzy when he finally pulled away. She looked back up at him lazily.

"Of course I missed you today, but after that kiss, I might just stay home tomorrow."

He laughed as he carried her to the bed, laying her gently. She curled into his body, letting the fear and anxiety that plagued her all day run out of her muscles as he grazed his fingers over her stomach and down her arm to finally entwine his fingers with hers. When they were together like this, when she could listen to his slow, steady breathing by her ear, the both of them sunken into her cozy bed and surrounded by blankets as if they were an impenetrable fortress against the meddling and injustice and cruelty of the outside world, she felt a soothing sense of safety and peace. When they were like this, nothing else mattered because they were invincible and nothing in heaven, hell, or anything in between could tear them apart.

"I wish we could spend forever like this."

He planted small kisses on her neck, each one sending a small tremor through her body as if his touch was electricity, sparking her long asleep nerves to life.

"That's all I ever wanted."

* * *

Tate was sleeping beside her as she stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows caused by the lamppost outside dance across it. She knew she had school in less than six hours, which made her groan with disgust. Maybe she should just take a mental health day tomorrow, tell her dad that she needed a break. She knew he wouldn't pester her too much about it what with her mom and all.

She gently moved Tate's arm, which was protectively swung over her torso, off her so she could get up and switch on the TV. She decided to watch the news, turning the volume down so that she wouldn't wake Tate. After a story about some teacher that knocked up his underage student getting jail time and another about persistent electric outages in LA due to grid overload, she was getting distracted when suddenly Tate's picture flashed on the screen.

_**ESCAPEE STILL MISSING FROM LOCAL HOSPITAL.**_

"About two and a half weeks ago, this patient escaped from the local mental hospital. Despite receiving numerous tips, the police department has yet to make any headway on their investigation. As this patient has been deemed dangerous to himself and to others, any information regarding his whereabouts should be immediately reported to LAPD."

The story ended as the newscaster – who looked quite haggard in her gray suit and dark eye shadow, but Violet couldn't blame her because she highly doubted she would look and feel much better at 1 in the morning than she did – started another story about how a dog rescued a family by alerting them to a fire.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned the TV off. They were still looking for him, which was obviously not good, but at least they still didn't know where he was and that meant that Gabe didn't lie to her that morning.

They still had time.

She just hoped it wasn't running out.

* * *

A/N: Reviews make this nervous grad TA super happy!


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Onward ho!

Just a heads up, updates are going to slow down once grad school really kicks into high gear, but I will try my hardest to update as much as I can. I look at writing as my relaxation.

And who else is super excited for Season 2? I've been obsessively watching the promos on the Facebook page and squealing every time I see Evan.

And this gets a little graphic sexually, so be warned (and get excited)!

_**May The Devil Come**_

Her alarm clock was ringing relentlessly, so she reached over and slapped the button, bringing the annoying clanging to an abrupt halt. She stretched her arms, arching her back and moaning as her muscles slowly came to life.

"Good morning."

She smiled as she heard his voice and snuggled up next to him, basking in the way his arms felt around her back and his lips on the top of her head, letting him chase away the sad, unbearably painful thoughts that plagued her earlier when she was bleary-eyed and staring at the TV screen. Everything seems so much more frightening in the dark.

"Good morning to you too."

They lay there in silence for a couple minutes, neither of them wishing to break the fragile peace between them and the outside world.

He turned to face her, reaching out to caress her cheek with his thumb gently.

"Stay home today."

"Tate, I can't tell you how much I want to…but with Gabe and everything…"

She detected the hint of rage that flew across his eyes at her mention of Gabe, but it was gone and his face relaxed back into a lazy smile.

"I understand. I just want you all to myself all the time."

She reached over and gave him a deep kiss, the kind of kiss that radiates that wonderful tingling from your toes to the top of your head, the kind that makes you not care if you suffocate to death because kissing this person is better than life. She laced her fingers in his hair and his hands curled around her neck, tongues simultaneously dancing in lust and passion and dueling for dominance.

He pulled away, panting hard, and she smoldered under his intense gaze.

"If you keep doing that, I won't let you leave."

She smiled devilishly.

"Think of it as a preview of tonight."

He pouted as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and loosened her ponytail, combing out the knots with her fingers and fluffing it out as best she could.

"That's not fair. Now there is absolutely no way I'll be able to get through today."

She grinned around the hair tie currently caught in her mouth before slipping it on her wrist.

"Good things come to those who wait."

"I don't like waiting. I go out and get what I want."

She squeaked as he looped his strong arm around her middle and pulled her back onto her bed, tickling her sides with his fingers and her neck with his lips. She laughed breathlessly and tried to fight back, but every time she reached around or up to attack one of his sensitive areas, he sped up his already relentless tickling. Somehow she ended up being straddled by him, his legs cinching her thighs together and his arms making a protective cage around her head. She looked up into his eyes and bit her lip, knowing that would drive him crazy and she was rewarded with a low, husky growl.

"Violet…"

He dove towards her face, kissing her mouth, her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose, everywhere as if he wasn't ever going to get the opportunity to kiss her again and he wanted to memorize her with his lips. She returned his eagerness in favor, fervently running her hands through his hair, down his back, slightly digging her nails into his shoulder blades because no surprise, he likes it when it hurts a little. So does she, which is why he pressed his finger tips hard into her hips, hard enough to bruise a little, his own special mark to show that she belongs to him as much as he belongs to her.

They pulled away and she could hear his hard puffs of breath. She looked up at him, her eyes whirling with a mix of love, desire, and excitement, a hurricane of emotion and memories welling up around her pupils.

"Tate…"

"Jesus, Violet, keep looking at me like that and I'll never let you out of my sight again."

"Tate…"

Suddenly her pajamas were off and he was between her thighs, lapping at her most secret place, telling her how wet she already was for him and how hot it made him, and it felt so good, so incredible that she keened loudly, not caring if her father was downstairs, not caring if the whole entire LAPD burst through her door at that moment.

"Say it. Say you're mine."

She couldn't focus on anything except his tongue and that move he does with it around her clit, sucking and rubbing at the same time, and she can't handle it.

"Fuck, Tate, OH!"

His tongue sped up and his fingers now were probing inside, massaging the spongy tissue of her G-spot and the delicious pressure was building, crescendoing to the top, oh, yes, right there, GOD, and she knew she was a goner. He knew it too, judging by the smug, satisfied smirk on his face.

"Say it, Violet."

"I'm yours! Only yours!"

She saw stars when she came with a little cry, arching her back so high she thought her spine would snap, his fingers still working her over, making her spasm as she came down from her high as littler, warmer shoots of pleasure raced along her body.

He smiled as he crawled back up to her, admiring her relaxed face and how her eyes were out of focus and swelling with pride – in more than one place – that he made her feel that good. He nuzzled into her neck, licking the salty sheen that had built up on her due to their exertion.

"You're mine. Forever."

He felt her nod her assent and he couldn't help but smile as he watched and felt her fall back asleep under him.

* * *

Fuck, she was late, she was so late.

She fell asleep after their romp – just the thought of it now made her blush and press her legs together – and as much fun as that was, she was then rudely awoken by her father ten minutes later, screaming at her that it was seven thirty and she has homeroom in ten minutes. She took the fastest shower of her life before grabbing her books and slapping Tate playfully on the arm for being naughty and making her late. He returned the favor by quickly smacking her on the ass as she flew out the door, making her pause and stare back at him with fake sternness, failing to suppress her giggle as he looked back at her cheekily (no pun intended).

She probably broke a good ten traffic laws and royally pissed off that old lady that she cut off on the main drag, but she didn't care as she burned rubber into the parking lot. She thankfully found a spot relatively quickly, squealed in, yanked the brake, and flew out of the car, tires still smoking as she ran past the rows and into the front entrance doors just as the first period bell rang.

"Violet? Are you okay?"

She whipped around to find Gabe studying her quietly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Overslept, that's all."

"Just be careful."

"About what?"

Gabe opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. She arched an eyebrow at him expectantly and he shook his head slightly and walked away.

She was never more relieved that the bruises Tate left on her this morning were in places Gabe couldn't see.

She hurried to her locker only to find two policemen standing there, waiting for her.

She stopped in her tracks, not caring that she was disrupting the flow of students. Her heart dropped and she felt like she was going to be sick. Her mind was at warp speed.

What was going on? What were they doing there? What did they know? Did Gabe tell? No, he wouldn't. He promised not to. Was he trying to warn her back there? The last thing they needed was the police nosing around.

Her eyes went wide with fear as another unwanted thought came to her mind.

Maybe they reopened the robbery case. What if they doubted her story? Shit, what if they found evidence that Tate was involved?! No, I can't lose him. Fuck!

The policemen were searching the crowd for her and she thanked the heavens that they hadn't seen her yet. She blended into the mass of bodies, crouching so she would be less noticeable and as soon she neared the gym, she ran into the girls' locker room. She plopped down on one of the benches and fisted her hands in her hair, trying to control her ever increasing heartbeat and even shallower breaths.

She needed to warn him.

She broke another ten laws trying to get home.

* * *

Her father was out again – he was at an all day conference for psychiatrists in downtown LA – and she was grateful that she wouldn't have to explain to him why she was home not even forty five minutes after she left.

She was sucking down oxygen hard as her adrenaline kept pumping, pushing herself up the stairs two at a time. She flung open the door to her bedroom, making it smack loudly into the door and Tate jumped at the sound. He smiled deviously when he saw her and gracefully got out of her door, walking towards her with the intention of seducing her.

"I guess someone couldn't wait until tonight."

"Tate."

Her tone of her voice instantly changed his demeanor. His eyes went hard like glass and he stiffened; it was if she was watching him ready himself for battle. In a way, he was – for them.

"What is it, Vi? You're shaking like a leaf."

She suddenly couldn't bear to not be touching him and she threw herself into his arms.

"Vi, what's going on?"

"Cops. At my locker. I don't know why they were there. I was able to get out of school without them seeing me."

He swore under his breath.

"I got so scared, Tate. I came right home because I had to warn you, I couldn't bear the thought –"

She could feel a tear spill over and she hugged him even tighter. He unclenched her arms around and stepped back from her, wiping her tears away with his hand so lovingly she could feel her heart breaking again at the prospect of him being taken away from her.

"So what do we do?"

"We wait until we figure out what it is they want. If we find out they think it's me, I do what I do best – hide until they can't do anything but leave it be."

"But you can't leave me. I can't lose you."

"Violet, you will never lose me. I promise."

* * *

A/N: DRAMA! Why are the cops sniffing around? Reviews make me smile.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for not updating, but it has been a hell of a roller coaster the last few weeks. With teaching, grading, studying, and lab work, I barely have time to sleep and eat, let alone write. But I'm hoping you all forgive me.

_**May The Devil Come**_

The sharp rap on the front door did nothing to soothe Violet's rattled nerves. Tate looked at her bedroom door and then back at her, his face set in a serious, grim line, his body taut with energy. Seeing him so firm, so ready for adversity, so ready to protect her and them from anyone who dared interrupt their new love and tempt fate to make their future a different, more tragic ending, made her feel both safe and distraught at the same time.

"It looks like we don't have the time to wait. If they're already here, they know something is up. I need to leave now or else we're both going to be in some serious shit."

He darted around her room, grabbing a few clothes before hoisting up the window. He had his back turned to her, but she knew from the stiff set of his shoulders that he didn't want to go as much as she didn't want him to.

She crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around his chest and leaning her head on his strong back between his shoulder blades. She inhaled deeply, willing her nose to memorize his scent, strong, tangy, bold, just like him. Trying to hold back the next flood of tears proved fruitless. The knocks increased in volume and ferociousness, causing her to flinch into his back and ball her hands tightly into his shirt.

"Hey, hey…"

He turned around and cradled her in his arms once again. She felt strong and comforted and she never wanted to let go of him and the thought that he had to leave right now, that he might get caught and taken away from her forever, made her just want to curl up in a ball and die because death was the better option than a life without him. She didn't care if that thought made her look crazy, made her like the drama queens she so loathed at school, because it was the absolute truth and would always be.

"I can't lose you. I can't, I just can't. Don't go. Please, Tate, don't leave me."

"Shhh.…"

They just stood there with their arms wrapped around each other, her face buried into his chest and his in her sweet smelling hair, and if anyone saw them at that moment, they would have said that it was the type of love that only comes around once in a lifetime. They would have said that it was the last embrace of two doomed lovers because they knew what inevitably would come next – the long struggle of separation where the one thing sustaining them was the hope that someday they would be reunited.

"I will never leave you, Violet. Because I will always be here –"

And he placed his outstretched palm on her rapidly beating heart.

She looked up into his dark eyes, emotions and meaning spilling out of hers as well as the salty tears that she could feel trailing down her cheeks.

"And I will never lose you, because you are here –"

And he took her hand gently and pressed it against his own heart, the one that all the doctors and psychiatrists in the world said he didn't have, but he did and she felt it and that was all the proof either of them needed.

"You will always be with me, Violet, and I will always be with you. Forever. I love you."

Her whole world stopped.

He loved her.

Everything was too in focus and too colorful all at once, the sun too bright, her bedspread too purple. It was if she had been living in a world of grey before he stumbled his way into her life and suddenly with his love, she was exposed to just how beautiful a place could really be.

She grasped his face in her hands and managed to smile through her tears.

"I love you. So much."

His mouth swooped down and hers reached up, each pair of lips moving as desperately as the other, and both were swept away in a kiss that to them was even more vital than oxygen.

Another loud knock brought them back to reality and Tate released her lips reluctantly and she couldn't help letting out a whine of disapproval, making him smirk ever so slightly before he threw his legs out of the window and started climbing down the trellis.

She leans out the window like they're some fucked up version of Romeo and Juliet, but she couldn't give a shit about stereotypes and warnings about starcrossed lovers as she grasped his hand in hers.

"Don't forget me."

"Never."

And then he was gone and as his blonde hair disappeared between the houses and cars of her unsuspecting neighbors, she thought that a part of herself had gone, too.

* * *

The knocks were still persistent and she debated whether or not to pretend that no one was home, but they probably saw her car and knew that she was avoiding them, and quite honestly, avoiding them would make it look like she had something – or someone – to hide.

And she did.

Someone precious.

"Alright, ALRIGHT, what do you want?"

She swung the door open and saw the two cops that had been by her locker that morning, looking pissed that this tiny waif of a girl was keeping them from their daily mid-morning donut.

Okay, Vi, time to be an actress.

She crossed her arms and shot them a withering look, as if she couldn't believe that people so insignificant as them would dare barge into her morning.

"What is this about?"

"Are you Violet Harmon?"

"That's what people call me. What do you want?"

"You recently had a break in not too long ago, correct?"

Trend lightly, Violet.

"Yes, two burglars came into the home while I was alone. I hid in my room and then I heard gunshots fired. Once I had the courage to come downstairs, I saw that both of them were dead, so I inferred that the gunshots were due to a dispute over the loot. I thought I gave you my story already and you closed the case."

One of the cops shifted nervously from one foot to the other.

"Well, yes, but it's been reopened due to some inconsistencies with the lab findings."

Her stomach dropped and turned to ice, but on the outside she stayed as cool as a cucumber. She smiled internally when she thought how proud he would be of her.

"What do you mean, officer?"

"Well, the researchers that looked at the crime scene seem to think that someone else might have been involved. Something just doesn't fit right with this being just a dispute over the stolen goods. So the police department wants to take another look. May we?"

She imperceptibly gulped and was ready to immediately tell them to fuck off, but she knew that she couldn't do anything remotely suspicious. She reluctantly opened the door and let them step inside.

* * *

He was safely out of the city, using his charms to walk and then hitchhike out to another town about an hour outside of LA. After his new friend dropped him off at a hotel, he paid for a week in cash, earning a slight eyebrow raise, but no comment, from the receptionist. He was a bit surprised at her reticence, but then he figured that a few high powered politicians crash here with their not-so-secret mistresses when their wives are on vacation in the Bahamas and that paying in cash really isn't so novel if you have secrets to hide, which he does.

He flops down on the bed, throwing his sweater off onto the ugly green armchair in the corner and sighing into the slightly musty pillow.

He hopes she is doing alright, but he knows she will be fine, his fierce, beautiful spitfire.

He places his hand over his heart and he feels his heart beating, but it's not his heart, it's Violet, and he smiles.

* * *

A/N: Reviews make me SO happy, especially since grad school is slowly eating my soul.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I am so sorry for it being so long, but grad school is hella time-consuming. And we're getting to the end, folks.

Right now, I'm working on a one-shot called _**Make It Hurt**_ for jandjsalmon because a) she's awesome and b) I don't really need another reason, do I?

_**May The Devil Come**_

The next week was a rollercoaster of adrenaline, fear, and relief, a roiling mass of emotion and uncertainty, and Violet was certain that if she had a heart condition, she probably wouldn't have made it to the third day. But if anything, she is fierce and strong and resilient and she doesn't have just her heart beating for her.

She has his, too.

The police came back every day, sniffing around the house, dusting a shelf here, scrutinizing a chair there. She knew that they knew there was something more than met the eye about this case, but they couldn't prove it and she could tell it royally pissed them off. She couldn't help the sinister grins and low chuckles that would make their way on her face and out her throat when they would leave the house in a huff after finding nothing.

Her cryptic answers to their prying questions and her father's loud insistence that they barge around someone else's home only served to aggravate them more.

Finally after a week, they gave up begrudgingly, mumbling about how the lab scientists must be wrong and how it is that they weren't the ones crawling around dusty floors looking for evidence that wasn't there, and she was left alone, forced back to the school she hated, pretending to give a shit about math and English, carefully avoiding Gabe's questioning glances, going through the motions day after day, one foot in front of the other.

She would endure a thousand tortured steps if they meant bringing her back to him.

* * *

The first week after the cops left for good was easy.

She got through each day because of him, smiling secretly when she thought about their time together, how he made her feel like the most beautiful girl on earth with just a look. Those thoughts were enough to bolster her spirit, supporting her through their separation like a balloon or a ballast, shielding her from the ocean of despair that was always ready and waiting to overwhelm her.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she lived for him. He was the face she woke up to in the morning and the one she fell asleep to at night. She got by on the thought that he would be back and this hell would finally be over and then it would the two of them against the world together.

And she knew the world would lose.

One more day.

You can do it, Violet.

Just one more.

* * *

The week after that was a little harder.

She kept hoping that each day when she got home, he would be there, smugly sprawled out on her bed like he owned it with a smoldering glint in his eye and a playful smirk on his face. She would push the gas pedal just a bit harder on her way home from school when she thought of his strong body holding her, intimately whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he made love to her all those nights when the whole world was silent except for the crickets chirping and her soft moans when he brought her over the edge.

Yet every day she would come home, burst through her door, and be greeted by nothing other than her curtain billowing slightly in the wind.

He wasn't there.

_He wasn't_ _there_.

She tried to ignore the growing sprout of doubt in the back of her mind.

* * *

The week after that was worse.

She thought of her razor blades, nice and pretty in her cabinet, their shine and sheen beckoning her to run them across her pale, cold wrists.

She thought of her father's sleeping pills, all fire engine red and sitting innocently on the sink just begging her to take a taste of two or twenty.

She thought of his fingers and dick inside her and how she never wanted anyone else but him there again, how he ruined her because she could never bear to allow another man near her sacred places.

She thought of how he said "I love you" to her, the pitch and dips of his voice, the feel of his hand on her heart, claiming it and her letting him.

She cried herself to sleep, tears wetting the pillow as she could feel her heart being ripped out because he wasn't coming back.

He wasn't coming back.

She didn't realize that the howling sound was coming from her until later.

* * *

The week after that was unbearable.

She doesn't remember it.

She thinks it is better that she doesn't.

* * *

The week after that was the end.

She convinced herself that he wasn't real, that he was just a dream made up by the parts of her mind that wanted fairytale romance and flowers and "I love you's." He was a twisted fantasy, that's all. She didn't have trouble admitting that she liked a guy who would kill for her, that the thought of it made her panties damp. She is sure she is not alone in wishing up bad boys as imaginary lovers, reveling in their dual capacity to do extreme violence as well as extreme tenderness. Maybe it was sexual frustration, loneliness, or both that made him seem so real.

She locked up her heart, let it freeze over, and tried to put all images of him aside because she refused to be weak. She refused to become like her mother, a shell of her former self, broken down and hollowed out like a jack o' lantern by her misery.

So she soldiered up and marched onward, one foot in front of the other, waiting eagerly for the day where she could move out away from the bed that held so many memories of him – which were vivid enough despite him being imagined – and on with her life.

* * *

"Jenny, why don't you read from page 65 onward?"

Her classmate's monotonous reading of _Love in the Time of Cholera_ did nothing to distract Violet from her thoughts. It was last period and she couldn't wait to get home, blast some Nirvana, and curl up with a book. Maybe if her father went to visit her mother, she could even sneak some Grey Goose and make herself a nice little screwdriver as she pored over the pages of some novel that has a man half naked and wet rescuing an impossibly gorgeous woman from an evil suitor on the cover.

The nervous shuffling of students anxious for the weekend – no doubt to get hammered on booze and uppers while their parents were out of town for the weekend – snapped her out of her reverie. The bell rang not a moment later and she heaved a heavy sigh as she hauled her backpack off the floor. She made her way to her locker, not caring if she stepped on people's designer shoes or pushed them out of the way.

"Hey, Violet."

She turned to see Gabe at her locker. He was still wary of her, but she had slowly let him back into her life after she made it abundantly clear that they were just friends.

"Hey, Gabe. What's up?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering if you wanted to go see a movie tomorrow night."

But she didn't respond because she suddenly thought she saw a familiar blonde head out of the corner of her eye – she hated herself for how her chest seized up, how her heart skipped even though she knew it, he, was just a dream, just a wonderful dream, _Tate, it's him_ – but when she looked to check, she saw nothing.

"Violet?"

She shook her head slightly as she refocused her attention on Gabe, who had cocked his head at her, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, sorry, I spaced out for a second there. Yes, I'd love to see a movie."

"Okay, how about I come get you around seven?"

"Sounds good."

She waved at him as he went down another hallway to his locker before sighing again and halfheartedly making her way to her car past her peers who had nothing more pressing to think about than their next high or new car.

She, on the other hand, had to worry about stopping her psyche from conjuring phantoms of her imaginary love of her life.

She barely was victorious over the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she turned her key in the ignition.

* * *

A/N: Poor Violet! Reviews make me happy.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I'm back, clawing my way out of a mountain of grading and desperate to let my muse do something other than cry about how undergrads can't write lab reports. But shit is about to get crazy, like Tate crazy, like Briarcliff crazy.

_**May The Devil Come**_

Gabe didn't even see the axe coming when he walked through the door.

But he sure felt it.

"I told you I would kill you."

He was wheezing, clutching the sharp hole in his stomach, blood everywhere, everywhere, on the pristine white walls, her mother's favorite rug, but even in his adrenaline and pain induced haze, he couldn't mistake that voice, hissing with enough venom to eat holes through the fine wood floor.

"You just couldn't leave her alone, could you? You had to have what was mine and you thought you could weasel your way into her arms when she was grieving. Asking her to a movie? You're pathetic."

Tate let the axe fall to the ground, the metal making a satisfying thunk that echoed in the empty hallway, and hauled him up by the shirt, sliding his fingers into the hole he just made, laughing cruelly when he dug his nails into his tender, screaming flesh.

"I'm sure you thought about fucking her on her bed, taking her virginity. I'm sure you got yourself off to the little sounds you imagined she'd moan when you made her come. But guess what?"

He slammed his hand next to his face so hard he punched a hole into the wall. He pulled his fist away, his brown eyes locking with his own, and he knew at that moment, irrevocably, that he was facing the devil. Tate's face cracked into a smirk as he saw Gabe recognize the dire state he was in.

"I was there first. And she will always be mine."

His smile was sinful and his fingers in his side gave a gleeful twist, wrenching a tortured sob from his throat.

"And she will never hear you scream. She will never miss you. She will never give you a second thought because she never loved you."

The last thing he remembered before a sharp crack from Tate's elbow made him lose consciousness was his sharp, deadly breath whispering something devastating in his ear.

"She loves me."

* * *

Violet pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, willing herself to keep it together. That shock of blonde hair in the crowd kept torturing her. Was she crazy? She must be, wishing for a man that she is (almost) certain she made up in her head when she couldn't sleep at night. Her father always told her that she had a vivid imagination to the point that it was dangerous, that someday she might not be able to discern between what was real and what was not. She feared that she was already there, living in a half-real world peppered by specters she thought up rather than people made of flesh and pumping blood.

She slammed the car door shut and walked halfheartedly to the house. Her backpack was full of homework she didn't give a shit about – who cares about the lives of people who lived four centuries ago and have long rotted to less than bones in their graves if they were lucky to get one or how many degrees make up a triangle when you were worried about your own sanity? But she tried to make the effort, she really did, because even if she didn't see a long list of academic pursuits and accomplishments in her life, she wanted to get into college and get the fuck away from the hellhole that was now her home and not even mediocre schools liked a C in biology.

She dumped her backpack on one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen island when a piece of paper caught her eye. She picked it up and quickly read it before sighing and crumpling it up. Her dad went to go visit her mom and he'll be back late tonight because the doctor wanted to have a lengthy discussion about her mom's progress – or lack thereof. She decided to finally eat that frozen pizza she had been eyeing for a bit for dinner later before trudging up the stairs. She opened the door to her room and stopped breathing.

There was a single black rose on her bedspread.

* * *

Someone had been in her room.

No.

It couldn't be –

She felt like she was hyperventilating, snapping, finally descending into madness. She started frantically running around, tearing down the books from her case, sweeping the junk off her desk, and most importantly, ripping her comforter off her bed to hide the rose, which was mocking her mind, in the folds of the dark purple fabric.

It can't be him.

He is not real.

Yet even though he is false, an idol conjured by her love-starved mind, he is still torturing her, driving her as mad as she knew him to be.

But if he is not real, how would anyone know of her penchant for black roses and all things not normal? Their conversation – one she convinced herself was just a dream, a side effect of the half-awake, half-asleep feeling where when you really wake up, you're not sure if what happened was real or not – replayed in her mind and she knew she couldn't handle it. She had imagined them lying on her bed, the sunlight making shadows on the wall while his arm was curled around her shoulder, hugging her to his strong chest. They had just been talking – while the sex was fantastic, she liked their talks even more so, because that was when she felt the closest to him because he didn't keep anything from her, his soul was completely bared to her and it was a beautiful thing to behold.

"I didn't think you'd like normal things."

"Considering I like you, you'd be right."

She slowly sunk to the floor, sobs racking her body as she clutched her bedframe with one hand and pulled at her hair with the other. Her hysterical crying and screams increased in agony until all she knew, all she felt was unfettered, raw heartache, but it is was more than heartache, it was heartbreak, heartshatter.

"Tate, Tate, why do you do this to me?!"

* * *

He could hear her screaming from her room and it took all he had not to run to her, gather her up in his arms, and whisk her away to a place where no one would find them. But he had a dead body on his hands – literally – and he had to make sure no one would ever mess with their happiness again first before he revealed himself to her. There would be nothing worse than reuniting with a cloud of fear and apprehension over their heads – he saw how much the fact that she could lose him at any time hurt her and he promised he would never let anything or anyone hurt her.

He felt terrible that his gift made her such a mess, but he had to do something for her, anything to show that he loved her even more than when he had left her all those weeks ago, if that were even possible for a heart to achieve.

Tomorrow, Violet.

One more day.

* * *

Saturday passed in a blur. She alternated between lying on her bed and standing in the shower, feeling the lukewarm water running down her back. Her dad had gotten back after she had fallen into a restless sleep crying and he wasn't in great shape himself, not that she blamed him. A husband who lost his wife in the worst way wasn't about to accept the fact that his daughter was going batshit crazy over an imaginary boyfriend. First dead babies and comatose wife, now unstable daughter battling psychosis. What a fucking family photo that would make.

He had gone back out around 3 or so, muttering something about work and how he can't believe that he got suckered into yet another conference. She was thankful that he wasn't around to hear her sobbing the whole day. Now she had to get ready to go to the movies with Gabe. As much as she wanted to blow him off, she couldn't bring herself to call him and tell him she wasn't up to it. She could tell that he knew she was upset and was trying to cheer her up, but she also knew that the things he would do – like ask her to go to the movies with him, for example – were things that she had wanted Tate to do. They were dates and even though she had adamantly told him that they were only and would continue to only be friends, she knew that he thought about and hoped for more while she just steadfastly ignored the connotations behind their hangouts.

She pulled out her favorite mustard cardigan and light purple tights – she was going to need to wear all her favorite things to get her even an ounce of the strength and fake happiness she would need to get through the night. She brushed her hair a few times to make it presentable and chose to forego any make up. As she flipped her hair behind her shoulders, she caught a good look of herself in the mirror and froze.

She looked like she was in mourning, lips turned down, skin sallow, and most strikingly, tired eyes that looked like the light had just been snuffed out.

She was shaking her head to clear away those creeping thoughts of doubt and sadness right when the doorbell rang.

"Okay, I'm coming!"

She walked down the stairs, grabbed her purse from the kitchen, and was checking to see if she had enough movie for a ticket because she was not about to let Gabe pay and get date-like thoughts going in his brain when the doorbell rang again. She sighed in exasperation.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming!"

She rushed to the door and yanked it open, still rummaging in her purse, eyes downcast into her wallet to count the many singles she had stuffed in there.

"Okay, I have my stuff, let's –"

She looked up and her heart stopped.

It was him.

It was Tate.

* * *

A/N: Cliffie! Reviews make me more happy than you can imagine.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Despite the fact I have a test on Monday, my muse is compelling me to write. So here we go!

**_May The Devil Come_**

The world stopped.

There was no other way to describe it.

There he was, his smirk just as she remembered – or created? – it, his hair flopping into his eyes, a dozen beautiful black roses with purple shot through clutched in his hand. He took a step towards her, taking care not to startle her just as a doctor would approach a terrified, wounded animal, slowly, cautiously, gently, to show that he could be trusted and that he would never hurt it. The only problem was that she didn't trust herself.

"Violet, it's me."

Her voice was barely a whisper, all her energy rewired to her brain to figure out what in the fucking hell is going on because he can't be real, he can't be…

Is he?

"Tate…?"

She stepped back from the door, one two three, eyes growing progressively wilder, and then slammed it shut.

* * *

She ran to her room, sobbing hysterically, bumping into the hard walls of the hall because motor control was the last thing she was worried about. She collapsed on her bed, letting her tears instantly soak the pillow.

She thought that she had finally accepted that he was a figment of her imagination. She thought that she was finally on her way to healing, but in that one instant of madness – he was so vivid, so real it was sinful, she could see every detail, everything – she was back to square one and all the carefully, meticulously built defenses around her heart came crashing down, ice and steel and thorns a useless mess around it. Her mind was the devil and it was gleefully torturing her, betraying the body and heart it kept alive. It had wrapped up her desire and madness in a pretty package of blonde curls and broad shoulders and presented it to her like a serial killer would present a dead lover to his current, terrified victim, all pretending to be nice and thoughtful while really reveling in the distortion, the perverted horror of it all. It was severing her grip on the outside world with a carefully placed ghost, making her confront the thing that she had feared all along – that she was crazy.

"Violet!"

She stopped her crying to listen harder, no, Violet, it is all in your head –

"Violet!"

It sounded like he, it, whatever it was, was yelling below her window.

She bolted up from her bed and started hitting her head with her hands, pulling at her hair, anything to stop it, get it away, get him away, out, out –

"Get out! Get out of my head!"

* * *

He knew that she would be shocked when she would see him there instead of Gabe. He knew it would have to take some convincing. But never did he think that he had broken her so completely. If it was any other person, it would have amused him because people were only toys for him to play with and break if he wanted to. But never Violet – he wanted to protect her, he told her that he would never let anything or anyone hurt her, he loved her. She was his light, his everything, his reason for living. Never had he imagined that he would be the one to hurt her so deeply. His heart hurt and since it was both his and hers, her heartbreak on top on his was unbearable.

He had to break through to her.

For both their sakes.

* * *

She didn't notice that he was there until she turned around, worn out from trying to beat her head back into sanity. She could tell that her specter was upset, could also hear his heart tearing if the sadness in his eyes was any indication – she was sure her puffy eyes, a clump of hair ripped from the roots in her hand, her mouth curled in despair was a pretty pathetic sight.

"Jesus, Violet…"

She was so tired that she didn't fight when he wrapped his arms around her. God, she had missed this even though it wasn't real. She couldn't help the contented sigh that escaped her lips as she settled into his chest. It felt like bliss, like coming home after a long day, like sinking into a hot bath to melt all her stress away, but better, ten times better, because she could pratically feel the love for her that her ghost was emanating like a warm blanket of comfort, wrapping her in a cocoon of safety and happiness.

Maybe being crazy isn't so bad…

"It's me, Violet. Tate. I'm back. I'm so sorry. Please, Vi, say something."

But she couldn't, not yet, her vocal cords were all screamed and sobbed out, and she let the tears falling from her eyes onto his hands do the talking for her as they stayed there, his arms wrapped around her body which he could tell was frailer than when he left all those weeks ago, for what seemed like days.

* * *

Finally she got the strength to speak, but her voice was so weak and gravelly that he had to strain to hear it.

"You're not real."

His hand moved up to stroke her hair and she couldn't help the strangled cry that followed because it just wasn't fair how real it felt, how nice and soothing and full of love it was.

"I am."

She scoffed. Of course her psyche would have the nerve to talk back.

"You can't be. I made you up. I made everything up."

"No, Violet, I'm real. I'm here, with you, with my arms around you, the way it is supposed to be."

"That's just the way I want it to be. It doesn't mean you're real. It just means I've finally lost my mind."

Tate could feel his heart breaking as he watched Violet struggle and battle with herself, confusion and hope and anguish passing over her features as quickly as a blink of an eye. He could see that she wanted so desperately for him to be real, but she refused to give herself the hope because if it turned out that he wasn't, she would be beyond repair for good, shattered permanently into a sad shade of who she once was.

How could he prove to her that he was real? He couldn't bear to see her like this, knowing that she thought she was crazy because of him. She had to know that he was here and that he would be by her side forever no matter what the world threw at them.

And then he thought of an idea.

He just hoped it worked.

* * *

She could feel him picking her up gently and placing her on her bed. She looked up in his deep brown eyes and could feel her hand stroking his sinfully perfect face.

"How can I not be real if you're doing this?"

"Because this is paradise and I know such a place doesn't exist."

"Then how can I not be real if I'm doing this?"

He touched her arms lightly, causing her to shiver as the tingles raced up and down her flesh.

"Or this?"

His hand slid under her shirt to caress her stomach and she could feel shoots of desire gathering.

"Or this?"

He reached up to lightly palm her breast and she moaned with want, whimpering when he pulled his hand away.

"Or this?"

He grasped her hand and started kissing it, knuckle by knuckle, until he placed it on his chest, right over where his heart should be.

Something in her mind started to click, the gears started turning, and she looked up at him with surprise.

"I said I would never lose you because you are here."

And then he placed his other hand on her rapidly fluttering heart.

"I promised that I would never leave you because I am here."

He looked earnestly into her eyes, begging her, pleading with her to believe him, to just see that he would never, could never leave her.

"You really are here, aren't you?"

"I am here. I'll always be here, Violet. I love you."

She started crying because at that moment, she knew.

He was real.

And he had come back for her.

* * *

A/N: Reviews make me so happy!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: And this is the last chapter! It's been quite a ride and I want to thank all of you for making ti such a wonderful, exciting one. And who knows, there just might be a sequel…

**_May The Devil Come_**

He was here.

He is here.

On her bed.

With her.

And as she lay on his chest in comfortable silence after many, many apologetic and feverish kisses, she finally felt that she was in the place that she had been searching for all her life – home.

* * *

She stroked his face, rough with stubble, because she was afraid, even still, if she didn't touch or maintain contact with him through some way, he would slip through her fingers like sand or smoke and she would be all alone again. She shivered at that unwanted thought, causing him to pull her even closer to his chest as though he knew her thoughts and wanted to assuage her fears.

"Do you want to hear a story?"

She lifted her head to look at him and his deep brown eyes still took her breath away. His fingers lightly tickled her sides and she let out a sound that was half giggle, half sigh.

"Let me guess, you won't give me a choice."

He kept tickling her, a genuine grin breaking out on his face, and even though she had cried so much that day, she could still feel the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. He noticed and she could see the concern in his eyes, but she smiled at him and he seemed to relax once he understood she meant the tears were from happiness.

How could she be anything but happy now that he was back in her arms and she was back in his?

"Of course not."

"Even though you're not giving me a choice, I'd love to."

I would love to listen to your voice forever because that means you are here, really here, next to me for as long as I want you. And I want forever.

"Once upon a time, there was a troubled prince who was locked away because he didn't behave. He thought that he would never find anything to live for, no purpose, no direction. But then one day, a princess as beautiful as he was troubled walked by. He suddenly knew that he had to meet her, so he broke out of his prison and somehow found her. He convinced her to let him stay and soon, her icy exterior towards him melted. They fell in love."

She opened her mouth to speak, but his finger gently pressed against her lips to silence her.

"But many people were looking for the prince and wanted to separate them, so he had to run away to protect his love and newfound happiness. But he made the princess very sad, so sad that it broke his heart. She thought that she had imagined him because he had been gone so long and her pain was so great. He came back as soon as he could and after he showed her that he was real and would never leave again, their love was as strong as ever. They lived happily ever after."

She reached up to peck him lightly on the mouth before smiling at him.

"That's our story."

"It is."

"You make it sound so beautiful, like a fairy tale."

"Because it is. You're my fairy tale, Violet. You are my purpose."

"And you're my prince."

"For forever, if that's what you want."

"That's all I'll ever want."

* * *

Waking up in his arms, she decided, is the best feeling in the world.

It was a beautiful, perfect day in paradise. It was the kind of day that remains ingrained in your memory until you're old and wrinkled, when you don't remember anything else, both brain and bone riddled with holes, but this memory is so strong it defies every decay and sickness life can throw at it. It was the kind of day that novelists write an entire book about. It was the kind of day that defines your life, your whole being, your outlook on life and love and everything in between.

It was full of laughter when her father left for the day and they made pancakes for breakfast and had a batter fight.

It was full of kisses when he licked the batter off her nose.

It was full of moans and gasps when he took her on the kitchen counter as their pancakes sizzled nearby.

It was full of playful punches when he and she played cards and she bragged about beating him again even though he told her he let her win.

It was full of tender words when he tickled her to the rug, cards scattered everywhere, and her hair was splayed like a halo, befitting her status as an angel in his mind, and he told her how she was all that was good in the world, how he admired her strength and courage, how she continued to be his light even in the darkest of his days apart from her.

It was full of warmth when they snuggled under her covers, cradled around her favorite depressing novel by Tolstoy, _Anna Karenina_ because she just loves the self-destruction, and she made him read Vronsky in a Russian accent.

It was full of lustful gazes and sinful smirks when he began playing with her underwear while she was reading a sensual scene and soon the book was thrown on the floor as he made love to her again.

It was full of fun when they made a dinner of chicken parmesan and she drizzled the cheese in the shape of a smiley face on the food.

It was full of comfort when he made her hot chocolate and cuddled with her as they watched her favorite movie, her lips mouthing the words as he nuzzled into her hair.

It was full of love when he kissed her good night.

"I love you. I will always be here."

"I love you. Always."

* * *

The next day, however, the real world intruded like an unwelcome, nosy neighbor who can't stand the thought of anyone being happy when he was so miserable.

They awoke to a frantic knock on her door, and she barely succeeded in shoving a still sleepy Tate under her bed before her father barged in.

"Jesus, Dad, where's the fire?"

"Violet, you're going to be late for school! Get up!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up. Cool your jets."

He shot her an exasperated look before he closed the door. She waited until she heard the car start – her father probably was making another trip to the hospital to visit her mother – before she let Tate come out.

"Don't go to school. Stay with me."

"I'd love to, you know that. Yesterday was amazing."

"But…"

"But I should. Gabe would ask questions, you know."

"I hate that fucker."

"I know, but I don't want anything spoiling this for us this time."

"Okay."

He looked down for a second, and when his eyes met hers again, there was a devious glint in them.

"But at least let me shower with you."

He ducked as she threw a pillow at him.

"You'll make me late!"

"That was the plan, yes."

"Pervert."

"But you love me."

"I do."

* * *

She got to school a bit late, but she didn't really care since she felt like she was floating on clouds. He was back, he loved her, and he was never going to leave. What could possibly stop her? What on earth could threaten her? She felt powerful, infinite, and so crazy giddy with delight she almost ran into the police officer at the front doors.

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"That is okay, Miss Harmon."

Suddenly her stomach dropped and she could feel the ice-cold adrenaline of fear run through her veins.

"How…how did you know my name?"

"Do you know a kid named Gabe? Gabe Ramos?"

"Yes."

Be cautious, Violet.

"He has been missing since Saturday. Have you seen him or have any idea of his whereabouts?"

"No. He hasn't called or texted me. I just assumed he was busy with schoolwork."

"We have reason to believe that he has been murdered."

WHAT? What reasons?

Show nothing, Violet.

Poker face.

"Excuse me?"

"There was some blood splatter left at his house despite someone obviously trying to clean it all up. I'm guessing the killer did not have time to get rid of all of it. It is being sent to the lab to be tested. I would advise you to be careful, Miss Harmon."

She gave him a guarded look.

"Why, may I ask?"

"Since people have claimed that you and he were good friends and hung out a lot, many questions will be coming your way."

He walked into the principal's office and it felt like all her systems finally came back online after being short-circuited.

And suddenly she knew.

They were going to find Tate.

* * *

She rushed home as quickly as she could skip out of math during second period. She knew it would shifty to the police, but she hoped her explanation to the nurse – that the policeman's reveal of her friend possibly being dead made her so upset that she was feeling physically ill – would throw them off for a little bit. She burned rubber as she swung into the driveway, only thinking about how she was going to protect them this time.

She knew he knew instantly what had happened by the look on her face when she barged into her room.

"The police are coming, aren't they?"

"Yes."

He crossed the room and swept her up in his arms, and she found that she didn't even care that he had killed Gabe – she knew without a doubt that he did – and as horrified as she should be, she knew it was because he didn't want to lose her to him. He just eliminated the competition in the most final way possible.

She was surprised how much she was just like him on the inside. Maybe that's why she fell so far in love with him.

"Do you trust me?"

She just buried her face in his chest further.

"Do you trust me, Violet?"

And she looked up into his eyes and said the answer that she knew was true in her heart all along, way back when he shot those robbers for her, probably even when he climbed through her window the very first time.

"With my life."

* * *

The test results came back that evening. The sample had two blood types. One was Gabe's. The other was Tate's.

And all hell broke loose. News channels, police, everybody knew his face that night.

And when the cops came busting down the Harmons' door that evening, they broke the lock only to find an empty house.

Because this time, Violet went with him.

And as her car flew down the freeway out of LA to another life, her hand slipped into his and he uttered the words that she would always remember as the ones that brought her back to him, forever.

"I will never leave you."

And she whispered back the words he had longed to hear, that he imagined her saying every night that he was away, staring up into the bland ceiling of some no-name motel and picturing her beautiful face instead.

"Because I will always be here."

* * *

A/N: Reviews make me so happy!


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